#johnny's a manwhore what can i say

[soaps-mohawk]

First of all: you’re a WAY better author than me in your suspense. The second people ask me about where the plot is going, I pull them in and gab the entire storyline like a middle aged mom who’s sitting on a goldmine of gossip. It takes no effort to get me to spill.

Second: I know that we kind of know Price’s dating history in a vague sense and possibly a hint of Simon’s (my memory do be failing me sometimes so I might be off on that one) but what about the 141 pack as a whole? Have they all dated an omega before? Have any of them ever shared a partner?

Keep up the great work :3

-🍓

Oh believe me, it is so hard not to spoil everything as soon as someone asks 😭 I have to catch myself sometimes so I don't spoil things too much. I live for the suspense and keeping everyone on edge, but I love spoilers myself and spoil most things I read or watch.

I've touched briefly on the guys dating histories, I can't remember if it was in the fic or in the lore posts, outside Price I know I discussed his a bit. They've all either dated or had flings before, probably with omegas. I'll be touching on Simon's briefly coming up soon. I wouldn't say they've shared partners before, at least not intentionally. Most of their previous flings and relationships were pre-formation of the 141. Johnny might have after, but not for very long since they all kind of started to get close to each other pretty fast.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Heyyy! I had this rlly funny idea but the TF 141 separately (and maybe König, you can decide if you add him w/ the 141 fellas or not) with a reader that's like 4'11-5'4 (maybe shorter) who's really sassy and a big smart mouth, but is just so sweet to them, but will absolutely bite someone's head off if they tried something (they do say dynamite comes in small packages lol) I hope ur having a good day and if you don't wanna do this u can ignore meeee luv ur work <3

Small but Mighty

Pairing: Task Force 141 + König x Short Sassy Protective Reader

Warnings: Strong language, threats of violence (but mostly comedic), reader is a menace but soft for the boys, fluff, crack, mild innuendos, reader is short but acts like a guard dog.

Author’s Note: I relate to this, I’m short and sassy so this request was so fun. I loved it so much-

Summary: You may be small, but your attitude is huge. You’re fiercely loyal to the team, the first to bite someone’s head off if they so much as look at them wrong. But with the boys? You’re their sweet, doting little powerhouse—when you’re not threatening to fight them for teasing you, of course.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon first met you during a mission briefing, and it was like watching a rabid chihuahua getting ready to tear into someone. You were barely scraping 5’2” in combat boots, standing next to a man twice your size who had just questioned your skills.

"Listen here, you oversized fuckin’ tree stump," you snapped, arms crossed as you glared up at the guy. "I may be small, but I can still take you down in two moves, so shut your damn mouth before I put you on your ass."

Ghost, standing behind you, simply tilted his head in mild amusement. He expected the guy to laugh in your face. Instead, the man hesitated, clearing his throat before muttering something about just joking.

That was when Ghost knew you were dangerous.

But what surprised him even more? How goddamn sweet you were to him.

"Si, did you eat today?" you asked one evening after a mission, voice softer than usual. You were sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath you, hands busy cleaning your weapons.

Ghost barely had time to answer before you shoved a protein bar into his hand.

"Eat. Now."

He looked down at the snack, then back at you, unimpressed.

"You’re bossy for someone I could put in my pocket."

You scowled, jabbing a finger at him. "And you are grumpy for someone who clearly needs food."

Despite himself, he found himself smirking beneath his mask. He peeled open the wrapper, taking a bite while you nodded in satisfaction, muttering, "Damn right."

Yeah. You were something else.

——

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap loved that you were a walking contradiction. One second you were cussing someone out for looking at him wrong, the next you were fixing his hair with the gentleness of a mother hen.

He thrived off riling you up.

"Oi, short stack," he called one day, smirking as you turned around, already glaring.

"What did you just call me?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"Short stack," he repeated, grinning. "Like a pancake. Wee but fiery."

You stomped right up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. "Listen here, Johnny, I may be short, but I can still take you—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You let out an indignant screech, kicking your legs wildly. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU MUSCLE-BRAINED MANWHORE."

Soap was cackling, patting your thigh. "You’re cute when you’re angry."

"I’M GONNA KILL YOU."

He eventually set you down after getting a few light punches to his back. But later that evening, when you checked in on him, making sure he was hydrating, making sure his injuries were tended to, he couldn’t help but grin.

You were his little menace, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

——

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz thought you were the funniest person alive. He wasn’t sure how so much attitude could be packed into someone your size, but it worked.

Especially when you went feral on his behalf.

It happened at a bar, where a stranger had started getting way too handsy with Gaz. You, standing nearby, immediately clocked the situation and marched over, eyes blazing.

Gaz barely had time to react before you inserted yourself between him and the stranger, glaring up at the taller man like a pissed-off gremlin.

"Take your hands off him before I break all ten of your fingers," you snapped.

The man blinked. "And who the hell are you—"

You grabbed the dude’s wrist. Twisted just enough to make a point.

"I said," you growled, voice low, "take. Your hands. Off."

The guy yanked his hand back and bolted.

Gaz just stared at you, shook. "Damn," he muttered. "Didn’t know I had my own personal attack dog."

You turned to him, smile sickly sweet. "Only for you, babe."

The whiplash was insane. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

——

Captain John Price

Price thought you were adorable.

He’d never say that to your face—he valued his life too much—but he thought it.

You had this habit of defending him when you thought someone was being disrespectful.

One day, some new recruit made the mistake of talking back to him. Before Price could even react, you stepped up, arms crossed, expression like a storm cloud.

"That’s Captain Price to you," you said coolly. "Show some respect before I have to teach it to you."

The recruit, visibly confused about being threatened by someone a foot shorter than him, just mumbled an apology and scurried off.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re a menace."

You shrugged. "Just looking out for my old man."

His eyebrow twitched. "Old?"

You grinned up at him, innocent as a damn angel.

He sighed. You were gonna be the death of him.

——

König

König was, at first, terrified of accidentally crushing you. You barely reached his chest, and he swore you had to be some kind of mythical creature because how could something so small be so loud?

But then he saw you threaten someone for him.

It was during a mission when someone made a snide remark about his size, thinking he couldn’t hear. You did, though.

"Hey, dipshit," you snapped, whirling around. "Say that again, I fucking dare you."

The guy stammered, confused. "What—"

"You heard me. You got something to say about König? Say it to my face."

The man immediately backed down.

König stared at you, stunned. "You… defended me?"

You turned to him, expression soft. "Course I did, big guy. Nobody talks shit about my team."

His brain short-circuited.

Later, you noticed him being extra gentle with you, like you were something precious.

"König," you asked, squinting up at him.

"Yes, kleine maus?"

"…Are you petting my head?"

"Ja."

You sighed. "Fine. But only because you’re my favorite giant."

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[inezthefish]

My Outsiders Headcanons

Warnings: None, maybe some cursing, mention of Dally being a manwhore

Ponyboy Curtis

- He 100% has a gluten allergy or is lactose intolerant

-Trips up the stairs

-He puts ranch on everything

Sodapop Curtis

-Rip Soda you would have loved Takis 😞

-He can’t add anything past 7+4 without using his hands.

-He hates spiders and screams like a little girl if he sees one.

Darry Curtis

-Makes one of those huge, itemized shopping lists.

-Will put soap in your mouth if you say a bad word

-Type of guy to be on a date with a girl and be having a nice conversation and then it’ll just be like

Girl- “So what’s your family like?”

Darry- “Well, my parents died so now I have to raise two teens on my own, and one of them ran away when his best friend killed someone last year.”

Johnny Cade

-When Soda grows out of some clothes, Darry very discreetly washes it and gives it to Johnny.

-Hates socks that go past your ankles, like he will tweak if they are past his ankles

-Loves plants, when he grows up and gets his own house he’s gonna be one of those people with hundreds of succulents and plants in their home.

Dallas Winston

-Let’s be honest, Dallas Winston probably has a couple unknown kids because bro ejaculates and evacuates.

-Cat person. 100% had tried to bring a cat into Bucks and Buck was like “Nah dude”

-He has this one pair of boots he stole from a store that he gave to Johnny when Johnny’s tennis shoes stopped fitting him

Two-Bit Mathews

-Let’s his little sister (i headcanon her to be 5 or 6) paint his nails, the gang makes fun of him for it

-Actually fire at math but just doesn’t try

-Hates only the green apples, loves all the other ones

Steve Randle

-Has said “You can’t handle the randle” unironically.

-The amount of cavities this man has from chocolate cake and not brushing his teeth

-He definitely loves white girl music, this man can sing the whole 1989 (Taylor’s Version) set list and will do so.

[powerfultenderness]

Me: tbh I love Soap fluff fics so much.

My daydreams: Soap is a manwhore slut bastard that thinks you're perfect wife material, only he's not ready to get married yet. Tells you he won't commit to an exclusive relationship before the first time you fuck, and it's such a good fuck that you go back to him whenever he calls.

He uses you to calm down after rough days/missions, cuddling you in the warmth of your home, head buried in your bosom as you gently scratch his scalp. LOVES your cooking and often stops by just to see what you made for dinner (you always make enough to share with him) or to raid your fridge for leftovers.

All while he's fucking other women too. Sure on his drunkest nights, he leaves them and barges into your home just so he can cuddle with you, but you know where he's been. He smells of their perfume, has their lipstick staining his skin, has their teeth and nails claiming what should be yours.

He knows you're in love with him. He knows that you're waiting for him, that you'll wait for him for forever. He knows that just because he's sleeping around doesn't mean that you are. You barely even look at other men.

It really is the best of both worlds for him. He gets to taste every pretty thing he sets his eyes on, then turn around and live the (fake) domestic life with you. It's perfect.

Until he gets too confident, too assured in your not quite a relationship with him. He invites you out with the lads, usually a night like that ends with him in your bed, so you happily meet them at the pub. You dress up pretty, do your make up how you know he likes (he likes when you wear mascara on your bottom lashes, likes to watch it run during the night). But when you get there, he's already wrapped around a pretty woman, arms caging her against a pool table as he teaches her how to shoot, as her ass presses right up against his crotch.

You sigh as you sit at the bar instead of meeting the group. This isn't the first time this has happened, him picking up other women right in front of you. You know this night will end with another piece of your heart breaking. His friends will look at you with pity, and you're not sure you want to face that right now.

So when a stranger slides up to the bar next to you and offers to buy you a drink, you think, fuck it, why not?

You face him, to offer a polite smile and thanks, only to be met with a startling mask. The only part of this man's face you can see are his eyes, beautiful pools of blue slightly down turned. He introduces himself, "König," and while his voice isn't as deep as his stature would suggest, it's pleasant and dripping with an attractive accent.

He pays attention to everything you say, tells you that you can do better than that little man across the pub, then changes the subject when he sees you get a little sad when you glance at Johnny. Most of all, he makes you feel like the only woman in the world. (Maybe you just have a thing for pretty blue eyes, cute accents, and big muscles).

THAT'S when Johnny finally notices you, with his arm still keeping the other tucked to his side, he's about to wave you over to the group ("just a friend" he tells her) when you stand up and leave with König, your arm wrapped around his massive bicep.

Gaz let's out a low whistle, "she did look pretty. No wonder that PMC bloke made a move."

"Lucky him." And "Good for her." Are said somewhere beside him, but Soap doesn't hear it over the ringing in his ears.

How could he pay attention to them when he just watched HIS woman walk away with another man?

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

THE AFTERCARE KING!

He was raised to treat his partner like a goddess and you took him so well for so long… he’s waiting on you hand and foot, whatever you need. Bath being drawn? Food? More sex? He’s more than willing.

Even after a quickie, he’s checking you’re alright. Praising you for being so perfect, and more often than not it will lead to more sex because those eyes draw you back in.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ON HIMSELF: He knows how much you love his eyes, probably the reason you even gave him a chance. Also they’re the reason he can watch your curves and how your lips widen when he slips into you… his eyes have a lot to do with his job and his life.

ON YOU: Johnny CANNOT pin down what he loves about you more. Your thighs when they tighten around his hips? Your lips that give him a run for his money no matter what they’re being used for?

He just loves YOU in general, he’s more of a personality guy but it’s an added bonus that you’ve got so many benefits.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Breeding kink is written all over this man. Inside all day long, he knows you don’t like having to clean up the mess on your body and the image of you carrying a little one of him… it’s too tempting for him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Still hasn’t told Ghost that he fucked you over the arm of his couch when you were staying over at his.

Simon definitely knows, he could smell the unmistakeable scent of fresh sex as he came through to the living room. And the scrape marks on the wooden boards- the sofa had moved a few inches to the right.

Not to mention the scratches up Johnny’s arms, and the abrasions along your collarbone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Johnny was so dead set on going into the military that girls may not have had his full focus.

He’s definitely experienced, have you seen that face ✨irresistible✨ and he’s an impossible flirt. Not a manwhore by any means but DEFINITELY knows how to pleasure you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

STANDING: He’s got muscles and what’s the point in having them not to use them on the person he cherishes most. He’s fucking into you while you’re suspended in the air- only thing stopping your descent to the ground; his arms hooked under your bent knees and hands clutching your ass.

DOGGYSTYLE: He can get so rough and bothered with you on all fours, watching your fingers clutch into the soft sheets of his bed. Your pretty voice filling the void between the flesh slapping and mattress creaking. Johnny doesn’t care if he doesn’t last as long as usual, he can’t help loving how your ass jiggles against his spread thighs.

IN HIS LAP: Sitting up with you in his lap wrapped so perfectly around him. Christ, he’d die a happy man if he got to see that every day. Your moans so loud like that, him buried so deep. Your body shivers and nails clutch deeper into his tattooed shoulder blade.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s gonna laugh if you guys fall off the bed. Doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop fucking you. It’s a unique image seeing this buff guy, covered in a range of scars and tattoos have such an angelic smile while defiling you. A weird dichotomy but you see it in your fucking dreams.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Johnny’s a clean shaven guy down there. The guy even styles his facial hair and even his mohawk. He’s definitely got a handle of the hair down there.

There’s still a dark brown shadow down there but no hair in sight.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so intimate.

When he comes home from deployment, he enjoys being cuddled up to something soft and breathing instead of crawling around in the dirt.

He’s so lively with his hands, cannot keep them off you. That’s how you end up under his heat, or how you end up spread with your beau on his knees eating you like he’s been a starved man.

Takes you out on little dates, nothing too fancy- he’s a down-to-earth guy. Normally in his local pub, you don’t mind as long as you’re with your man.

He’s so protective, and anybody would be stupid to cross this stocky built man with an SAS emblem on his forearm.

Johnny doesn’t even look at other women, as far as he’s concerned you are the only woman on the planet.

J = Jack off (masturbation head-canon)

Before you definitely jacked off once a day maybe more but after meeting you, you became the main focus and after you were ready to go all the way, you two have sex everyday. He just has an unquenchable need to be inside of you and feel that buzz.

During deployment, he doesn’t have the time or the drive to keep that amount up. But when he finds the time, the memories of you are his only assistance.

He’s definitely glad to get back to you, his safe place. His home.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BREEDING: You’re the only person he’s wanted to knock up. Before he didn’t even know if he COULD be a father… he’d be gone for too many days for him to bear the guilt. He didn’t want to be an absent dad but knowing you were there to take care of the kids… he melts at the thought of two boys and you pregnant with a girl.

The reason he makes sure to come out alive, a family waiting for him.

BONDAGE: He gets way too excited being at your completed mercy. Hands behind his back, tied with a pair of your tights, on a dining chair. His blue gaze entranced watching you work your magic all over his tensed body. Until he breaks out of his restraints… you have one hell of storm coming…

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Doesn’t really care where you have sex just as long as it’s comfortable. The bed is a classic place.

CAR: Not too keen on places that are too open. He drives either a Ford Ranger or a relatively modern BMW, hop in the front seat. Or if he’s feeling more handsy and in control- back seat, hands on ass type of doggy style. It’s like candy to him

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. You’re just the whole motivation for this man. You’re the reason he HAS to come home.

Rubbing his hair is a kind of turn on for him, any type of sensual touch. Caressing his tattoos and running your finger along his scars. He’s like a puppy dog turned to a wolf.

Wearing his clothes. He can’t help it, he wants everyone to know your his- maybe he bought you a shirt that said ‘MacTavish’ on the back just to fuck you in. Got matching hoodies as well. Even if you’re not married, they say ‘Mr and Mrs MacTavish’. They don’t stay on for long, most likely stripped with his bare hands.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that would harm you. You’re too precious and delicate taking him so good.

No degrading you- he will never call you a ‘whore’, ‘slut’ or anything of that sort. You’re his lady, he’ll treat you like a goddess till the day he dies.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn’t really care about blowjobs, prefers you taking him in other ways.

As for oral, he could eat you up for days and you’d gladly let him. He’s great at running his mouth and eating you up.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Truly is your decision or how long he’s been away from you.

If you’re begging him with those pretty eyes for him to jackhammer you- he will and lose himself in it.

But when he’s gentle and deep, it’s almost as affective because eye contact is involved… losing yourself in their waves.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie, for him it’s like a warmup to actually worshipping you. It helps get that darker side out of him, he’s almost animalistic during quickies so he can pay attention to your own needs.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Johnny is open to trying new things except the no nos. He loves learning new positions and strives to keep you satisfied when you’re just happy with him.

He definitely takes risks- gets his blood pumping and he’s not the shy type. If someone does catch you in the act- he’ll just carry on… they shouldn’t have walked in. While you’re there mortified.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could last all night and day if you wanted him to. His stamina is diabolical, but he’ll take care of you after the ten rounds he’s capable of managing through a 24-hour-span.

That normally happens when he gets back on leave. The neighbours definitely know when that is.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s definitely open to try anything new. But he’ll always protest after it that you were louder with just him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Have you met this man? He’s the poster-boy for teasing in whatever degree.

Will get so far with foreplay and get distracted… but fluttering your eyelashes has never worked so well. He always concedes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely is shouting praises at you under his breath. About how good it feels inside of you and how he could stay there forever.

He gets louder with each round, it’s raw and rugged hearing his accent really come through so you can barely understand it.

That doesn’t mean you’re any less riled up by them.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would maybe play with the idea of a threesome with Ghost… it’s slipped across his mind more than he’d like to admit.

You and Simon seem to get on great, and as protective as Johnny may be, it turns him on thinking about you being fucked by himself while choking on LT.

He knows it would never happen but it’s a weird fantasy he contemplates. And it’s only an idea, jealousy runs writhe in his veins at the thought of another person touching you like or at all.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s confident for a reason- about 7 inches but very thick.

You’ve never been so split in half before.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Craves you every minute of every day. He’s a fiend for your body… even without the sex, your company is his own drug.

On a scale of 0-10, he’s an 11.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he’s been going at it, he’ll wait to see if you needed anything before slipping into bed beside you and his chest being used as your personal pillow. He sleeps so soundly since he met you.

————

masterlist

[buckylovinglokivariant]

Casual >> Johnny Storm

pairing: johnny storm x popstar!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3.7k+

summary: Johnny always meant to keep it casual with you but unfortunately for him, he wasn't so good at sticking to his word this time.

warnings: angst, johnny being his asshole self, hopeful ending

a/n: big thanks to my beta reader, mati! love you so much. her idea for a summary was "manwhore fucks around and finds out" which i thought deserved an honorable mention. this fic was inspired by my (believe it or not) first watch of fantastic four so enjoy and don't forget to reblog!

read part 2 here!

Johnny did not want to be here. Not here as in at a concert, Johnny loved concerts. Loud music, hot girls pressed right up against him as they either tried to flirt with him or get closer to the stage (both were fine by him), and lots of recognition from giggly blonde things that liked to cling to him in photo-ops. All that stuff was fine by him, truly. What he did mind was that it was your concert he was at. He hadn’t spoken to you in months, not that his sister or Reed or Ben knew that. To them, you just weren’t around the Baxter Building as much because you’d been on tour. But the truth Johnny had been avoiding since you blocked his number was going to be difficult to ignore when he was watching you sing your heart out for the next two hours.

Susan had been raving about this concert since before the tour had even been announced to the public. You’d told her about it yourself, offering up four tickets for the whole fantastic Reed-Storm-Grimm family to go. It was a few weeks before you and Johnny fought so you were still around their home all the time, hanging out with Johnny or even just with his sister or on occasion, even Reed or Ben. Johnny watched from across the room as you confessed to his sister how much you would miss spending time with them while you were on tour, so they just had to come and see you perform when you were back in New York. The tickets were special, you’d said–they would give them wristbands and let them backstage to see you after the show. Susan had been thrilled. Johnny, not so much.

You’d been going out for months out of the public eye, at Johnny’s behest. “It’s just casual anyway so what does it matter?” he always insisted. He knew it bothered you whenever he said it but stupidly, selfishly he kept saying it anyway. When it all blew up in his face, Johnny really hoped his sister would forget about the tickets altogether. Boy, was he wrong. And he’d insisted to his family for months that you were just friends so he couldn’t exactly use the excuse that you’d broken up, now could he?

It wasn’t until you were nearing the end of your set that your eyes found Johnny’s and you both froze. Thankfully you were between numbers so you were able to get your bearings quickly and continue thanking the crowd for their enthusiasm, but when you caught his eye a second time very much on purpose before holding your pointer finger up to the audience and then strutting upstage to talk to your band, Johnny’s stomach turned to lead. When you turned back around, you were looking at anyone but him.

“So the band and I were talking and we really want to thank you for being such a fantastic audience tonight. I mean, obviously I can stand up here and say ‘thank you’ a hundred times but I really don’t feel like that’s enough, you know? So to thank you, we wanted to give you guys a fun surprise. How does that sound?”

Everyone except Johnny squealed with excitement.

“I’ve been working on a new song the last few months while touring. And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to sing it for you live for the very first time right now. Is that okay with you?”

If not for the sudden feeling of cotton in his ears, Johnny would have had to cover them with his hands with how loud the audience around him screamed. When you next locked eyes with him, you were smirking into the mic. Johnny gulped.

“This song is called ‘Casual.’”

Oh shit.

My friends call me a loser / 'Cause I'm still hanging around / I've heard so many rumors / That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

I thought you thought of me better / Someone you couldn't lose / You said, "We're not together" / So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

ELEVEN MONTHS AGO:

If you asked Johnny, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the gala was for. It was probably some fundraiser for charity or other that Reed organized so they could stay relevant, but Johnny had been to enough of them to know he wouldn’t be the one talking about anything of substance anyway, so he’d long since stopped paying attention. Normally these sorts of things were boring. The people with real money were the old, boring white collars with no personality aside from their wine and boat-in-a-bottle collections. Fortunately for Johnny though, this particular event seemed to be much more laid-back–younger crowds, louder music, shittier alcohol. And if there was a party, Johnny always had to be at the center of it. So there he was on a Friday night, getting drunk off his ass and grinding to the music with New York’s young elite.

He couldn’t tell you why you in particular stood out to him. There probably was a reason at some point but he was much too drunk at the time for it to stick in his mind for long. All he knows is that one moment he was standing at the bar and the next, he was downing the rest of Ben’s drink (ignoring the consequent protests), handing him back the glass, and making his way over to you. You were standing on the outskirts of the room, surrounded by similarly young and attractive girls who were chatting your ear off (or maybe it was the other way around). He wordlessly sidled up next to you, slipping an arm easily around your waist. You turned your head just enough to side-eye him, but you reluctantly allowed the gesture.

“Do I know you?” You asked stand-offishly.

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ obnoxiously, “but you will. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You looked over to your friends for approval and while they looked as suspicious as you, they generally shrugged in acquiescence.

“I don’t see why not.”

You looked him up and down appraisingly, handing off your drink to the girl next to you and allowing him to lead you across the room to a hidden corner.

“So? What did you so urgently need to pull me aside for?” You crossed your arms, stepping just out of his reach.

“Why so suspicious?” He raised his hands in surrender. “I just wanted to ask where you got that dress from.”

You cocked an eyebrow and he watched you search his face for an ulterior motive. Apparently finding none, you replied: “It’s Armani.”

“Armani?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows with intrigue. “Damn. It’s beautiful.”

You waited impatiently for the punchline.

“Would look better on my floor though,” he winked.

“There it is,” you rolled your eyes, unimpressed, before turning back toward your friends.

“Hey, come on!” He stepped in front of you, stretching his hands out to stop you. “Don’t be like that. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“If you want to sleep with me, Johnny Storm, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Full name!” He smirked, pleased. “I wasn’t sure you knew who I was for a second there.”

“I could spot your hot head from a mile away, Storm. And if I couldn’t, the terrible pickup line would have given you away.”

“Ouch,” he jokingly clutched at his chest. “Go figure. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You leaned to the side to peek at your friends over his shoulder before sighing and giving him your name.

“Oh, shit. Like the singer?”

You nodded your head slowly, mockingly.

“Well damn, I really did hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

“You know who I am?” You questioned him, not expecting him to enjoy your style of music.

“Duh, my sister won’t stop playing your music,” he tried to deflect onto Susan.

“And you know that because…?” You pushed.

He froze before awkwardly moving to rub at the back of his neck. “Because I… maybe… have listened to a few songs myself.”

“So the Johnny Storm is a fan,” you nodded, pleased with the revelation. “I’ll be sure to tell my publicist.”

“How about a deal?”

He took a risk and stepped toward you. You let him, though you pinched your eyebrows with skepticism.

“Go on.”

“You can tell your publicist whatever you want as long as you let me take you out of this place.”

You watched his cocky resolve flicker behind his eyes as you walked toward him, not stopping until your chest was pressed fully against his. You craned your neck to press your mouth right up against his ear.

“Only if you let me take you out of that suit afterwards.”

You’d be lying if you tried to pretend that was the last and only time you saw him. As much as you tried to resist (which admittedly wasn’t much), you continued seeing him. It was purely physical at first, him calling you at ridiculous times at night to fulfill a need or vice versa. But eventually, you found yourself seeking him out for reasons other than the physical. You craved his company so you’d invite him over for dinner or a movie, just in the privacy of your own apartment. When you finally visited the Baxter Building, it was only on the condition that you would be in-and-out and no one would see you. He’d been successful in sneaking you up to his room without anyone seeing. It was the getting you out that failed.

“Johnny, dinner!” A woman’s voice called and Johnny jolted away from your lips.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I gotta go.”

You blinked a couple of times, struggling to pull yourself out of the floaty headspace you always fell into when kissing Johnny.

“What?”

“You gotta go,” he grabbed your hand, pulling you up off the bed. “Come on, I’ll sneak you back out.”

You snatched your purse up off the floor as Johnny tugged you toward the bedroom door, opening it to make sure the coast was clear before dragging you quietly toward the front elevator. He’d just pressed the call button when the same female voice from before called out.

“Johnny, what are you doing over there?” The voice got louder as footsteps approached and Johnny shoved your hand away, covering his face with a groan. “I just told you that dinner was–.”

A beautiful blonde woman who bore some resemblance to Johnny turned the corner and did a double take when she saw you.

“Oh my god, you’re–!”

“Yes, hi, guilty as charged,” you giggled nervously. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

You stepped forward, outstretching a hand for her to shake.

“So you’re the girl Johnny’s been sneaking out to see!” She shook your hand with enthusiasm. “It’s so lovely to meet you! Please, you have to stay for dinner. I’ll have Ben set out an extra place for you.”

“We’re not together,” Johnny butted in, shattering the moment.

“What?” The blonde woman turned to face him, confusion glimmering across her face as you burned red with shame.

“We’re not together,” he reiterated. “Whatever you’re thinking… we’re just friends.”

“Oh,” she gasped, turning back to you. “Well, um, you’re still welcome to stay.”

“I would love to stay,” you smiled at her, embarrassment still burning at the back of your throat.

And as she pulled you away, you couldn’t help but turn around and glare daggers at Johnny before rounding the corner.

You said, "Baby, no attachment" / But we're / Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out / Is it casual now? / Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach / Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends / It's casual, if it's casual now / Then, baby, get me off again / If it's casual, it's casual now

TEN-AND-A-HALF MONTHS AGO:

You were in his car, one of the many but you couldn’t say which one this one was. It was dark when he picked you up in it and now you were god-knows-where, the passenger seat fully reclined as you laid half on top of him on it. You were tracing random patterns on his bare chest when he spoke.

“I’m gonna be away for a while.”

You stopped tracing.

“What?”

“She’s got a house on Long Beach,” he elaborated vaguely.

“Your mom?” It was a shot in the dark. You’d never spoken about his home life, nor yours. You didn’t do much speaking when you were together so you only knew about the people you’d met when you had dinner at the Baxter Building. He paused at your question, though you didn’t know why.

“My sister," he clarified. "She’s going up for a few weeks and me and her fiancé are going with her.”

“That sounds fun,” you remarked offhandedly.

“Yeah,” he snorts and you eye him, confused at what was so funny. “They told me to invite you, actually.”

You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

“Johnny, I would love to–.”

“I told them you were busy.”

And then the smile was gone.

“Oh.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of you moving, both of you hardly breathing.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Not yet.”

You leaned up and kissed him again, drowning out the emotional turmoil that was rapidly threatening to consume your thoughts.

Dumb love, I love being stupid / Dream of us in a year / Maybe we'd have an apartment / And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

TEN MONTHS AGO:

You hadn’t seen or heard from Johnny in a couple of weeks. Sure, he said he would be gone for a few weeks but you knew he had your number, which meant was a choice not to call you, not an inability to. Maybe you were just being stupid. You’d only been going out for a month, after all. And even calling it “going out” was a stretch. You had to face the truth at some point–you were just one of his conquests. He probably wasn’t even in Long Beach. He probably just needed an excuse to stop seeing you.

But as much as you tried to convince yourself of your idiocy, you couldn’t help but imagine having a life with him. You could get an apartment together or even just move into the Baxter Building with him. Either way, you wouldn’t mind. Maybe you could even have both and switch between them whenever you felt like it. Maybe next time he’d bring you to the Long Beach house and show you off to his family and whatever friends he probably had there.

Stop it, you scolded yourself. You’re being delusional. You have to move on.

That was when he knocked on your apartment door.

I know, "Baby, no attachment" / But we're / Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out / Is it casual now? / Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach / Is it casual now? / I know what you tell your friends / It's casual, if it's casual now / Then baby, get me off again / If it's casual, oh, oh, oh

It's hard being casual / When my favorite bra lives in your dresser / And it's hard being casual / When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

SIX MONTHS AGO:

“Please tell me he’s not with you,” Susan begged you over the phone. “Or that he is! Honestly, at this point I don’t know which is worse.”

Johnny watched you with amusement from where he was sprawled out across your sheets, naked as the day he was born. He definitely either saw Susan’s name pop up on your screen or heard her voice from across the room. Either way, he knew exactly who had called you and why.

“Uh… I’m not sure how to answer that question.”

You put a finger to your lips, making sure Johnny stayed quiet, before putting her on speaker.

“Well, if Johnny just so happens to be there, would you please remind him that we have a very public, very live television appearance that he’s supposed to attend which starts in twenty minutes.”

You caught Johnny’s eye and inwardly swore when you saw the sudden panic enveloping his face. He leapt out of bed, reaching for his own phone, and started whispering a chant of curse words when he saw what time it was. You threw your phone on your bed, ignoring Susan’s questions about what the noise was, and began throwing Johnny’s clothes from the floor at him. As he dressed himself, you began searching through your wardrobe for an outfit of your own that wouldn’t make it obvious from the wrinkles what you had been up to just before rushing to the studio.

“Um, yeah, I don’t know where he is, Susan. So sorry. But if I happen to see him or um, am able to get him on the phone, I’ll make sure to let him know.”

“Oh, god, I’m going to kill him the next time I see him. I swear, I’m going to take his phone away for a month!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult!” Johnny retorted absentmindedly as he fastened his belt before freezing.

“Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!” Susan bellowed from the other end of the phone.

“Damn it, Johnny!” You cursed him out as you desperately searched your wardrobe for your favorite bra.

“It’s in my dresser,” he reminded you, picking the phone up from your bed and handing it to you. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

“Johnny–,” you began to protest.

“I’ll get there faster if I flame on by myself anyway. I’ll see you later.”

He kissed your cheek before running out the door.

“Five minutes or I’m kicking your ass, Johnny!” Susan called after him.

“Susan, I am so sorry," you apologized on his behalf. "We lost track of time–.”

She just sighed.

“It’s not your fault. My brother is… not the most responsible person in the world, to say the least.”

You snorted.

“To say the least, yeah.”

“Okay, he’s a total blockhead.”

“You can say that again,” you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“But I love him,” Susan added. “And so do you, if I’m reading it correctly.”

“What!” You screeched. “No, I don’t. That’s ridiculous. I would never… Johnny’s…”

“He feels the same way about you, if it helps.”

“No, he doesn’t,” you replied honestly. “And even if he did, he would never admit it so I’ll take what I can get.”

“Hey–.”

“It’s fine, Susan. Have a good interview. I look forward to seeing it.”

You hung up.

And I try to be the chill girl / That holds her tongue and gives you space / I try to be the chill girl / But honestly, I'm not

THREE MONTHS AGO:

“I can’t do this anymore, Johnny.”

Johnny couldn’t tell you what had started the argument. To be perfectly honest, he’d thought the night had been going really well. He’d taken you to a fancy restaurant to celebrate right before you left for your big tour. You were in a secluded booth in the corner where no one would recognize you or even see you and… oh.

“Do what?” He blinked, forcing the lighthearted smile to remain on his face.

“Do this,” You gestured to the restaurant around you. “Going out on dates and pretending like everything is fine.”

“I thought everything was fine,” Johnny protested.

“It’s not, Johnny!” You smacked your hands on the table causing the silverware to clank together. “It never has been!”

“Tell me how you really feel,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Johnny, you can’t just… introduce me to your family, and kiss me, and take me on dates for months and then pretend like there’s nothing there. Like there’s nothing between us. I can’t… I can’t go on tour for six months wondering how you feel about me–if you think about me, if you’re waiting for me, if you’ll even want me when I come back.”

“I told you at the beginning, baby. I’m a no-attachment kind of guy.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel very no-attachment, Johnny!” You snapped at him and his jaw snapped shut. “Look, I try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space when you need it but honestly? I’m not. I’m not like that, Johnny. I love you, and if you don’t love me back then I think we’re done.”

“You think we’re done?”

“That’s all you have to say? After all that?”

Well, Johnny never claimed not to be an asshole. And he certainly never did things halfway.

“Well I don’t love you, so if that’s how you feel then maybe you should just go.”

You sat there, panting, choking back the tears you refused to let him see if he was going to treat you like that after everything you’d been through over the last eight months.

“Go to hell, Johnny Storm.”

You grabbed your coat and purse and ran out of the restaurant. That was the last time he saw you.

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out / Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her Long Beach house / I know what you tell your friends / Baby, get me off again

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner / Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter / Bragging to your friends, I get off when you hit it / I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry, dude, you didn't / I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself / Hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

PRESENT:

It was the last thing you’d said to him. “Go to hell.” He deserved it, in all honesty. It was true that he’d never been one for attachment. Meeting you, sleeping with you, continuing to see you even when he knew it was a bad idea, it was all the biggest mistake he’d ever made. But he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked out on him, and seeing you up there onstage just cemented it–it was also the best mistake he’d ever made. And as he looked down at the wristband adorning his wrist, he made a vow to himself: He was going to fix things with you. No matter what it took.

[only-lonely-star]

Maybe since u did NSFW Johnny hcs u could do NSFW dallas hcs as well? Love ur writing btw!!

Dating Dallas Winston NSFW Headcanons !! 💋

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I feel like Dallas is into anything aggressive. His pain tolerance is strangely high so during any intimate moment he’ll put himself to the test. He tries to see how much he can take whether it be something kinky as hell or how long he can last during actual intercourse. He’s just into more lustful and assertive touch since he’s not one to be a softie.

He lovessss to praise. Damn near every second the two of you are fucking he’s saying something dirty and complimenting you whether it be your body, how vocal you’re being, or just how good you feel. Honestly, I can picture one specific scenario where he’s got you bent over. His chest against your back, his head hovering beside yours, his voice low and sultry, “Doin’ so fuckin’ good… you’re doin’ great… yeah, just like that.”

He’s very experienced in general, being a bit of a manwhore… (this is nsfw dating hcs sooo 🌝) but it’s overall a not a completely bad thing. I have to admit, he’s probably the most ran through guy Tulsa has ever seen - BUT it just means he’s had trial and error. He knows what he likes and what he doesn’t. He knows how to give pleasure catered to your body type no matter what, but he also knows how to ensure he enjoys himself just as much. I just know he’s very experienced with his fingers - he doesn’t always have time for full-blown sex. Slight finger action would do it for the both of you, maybe even head.

He’s gotten into small yet heated arguments about being on top. This man will fight you to be the one in charge every time. He doesn't like to feel as if he’s below anyone, in a literal sense as well as mental. He wouldn’t abuse of the power he has while being the dominant participant, but he will call every shot. He decides what position, how things go, the pace - everything.

Dallas will make sure you finish. He’ll obviously not stop until he hits that peak, but if you don’t that’s whole different story. His ego tells him if you haven’t finished yet but he has - that you’re just stubborn. One the plus side, he isn’t complaining. Hell yeah - he’ll willingly have multiple orgasms until he’s aware you have at least had one. He’s not about to only please himself and not you.

I have a feeling Dallas would at least try to be all sweet and helpful as his way of aftercare. It doesn’t come natural to him so throughout his previous experiences he’s had to learn to keep his impulsive thoughts to himself and be gentle with you. He’d help clean you off, offer to shower together, and ‘cuddle’ - which was an arm around your shoulders in bed.

[hederasgarden]

Stand By Me - Part 3

Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4.8K Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: Welp, here we are a year later. 😬 Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I cannot thank my beta N, @mayhem24-7forever and @whatblogisthis216 enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

Masterlist | Lewis Pullman Characters Masterlist

"I see you're in with the Abbotts now," your boss remarks, watching Rhett climb into his truck. "Got a phone call from Cecilia this morning about you not closing up by yourself anymore. That woman has a real way about her, all polite-like when she's handing you your ass." 

“Mr. Anderson,” you start, rushing to explain but he waves you off. 

“She was right, of course. I know you got that, er- fella who hangs around too much.”

“My stalker?” You question, your tone harsher than you intend. He looks down at you, surprised. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but you resist, meeting his brown eyes. Maybe it’s knowing you had Rhett and Cecilia on your side, or maybe some leftover frustration from the Sheriff. Either way, you don't back down from your statement. 

“I suppose he could be,” Mr. Anderson agrees. “Anyhow, I’ve got Johnny set to close from now on. You go on and tell that to Cecilia now. One dressing down from that woman is enough.”

“I’ll let her know.” 

He nods, patting your shoulder briefly before disappearing into the back office. You exhale and look back out to the empty street. It’s stupid to miss Rhett but a small part of you does. You’re safe in the store; there’s no need to have him here with you. He has a life of his own and a ranch to help run. 

“Was that Rhett Abbott?”

You turn to face the owner of the voice, finding your coworker Sandra watching you excitedly. She’s got that glint in her eye, the one that means she’s not going to let this go easily. Wabang didn’t have a town gossip, but if they did, everyone knows she’d happily take the job. In high school, she was in everyone’s business, spreading rumors and ferreting out information. She never looked twice at you back then, you were too boring and quiet. 

“It was. He just gave me a lift. Not a big deal,” you promise her.

“Uh, nope," she says, popping the p and stopping you with a hand on your arm. "We’re not going to breeze past the fact that you left your car here last night and now the manwhore of Wabang is dropping you off. Spill," she demands.

"We're not…," you start, an automatic denial falling from your lips before you can stop it. She gives you an incredulous look and you stammer out an answer. "It's not a big deal. We're, um, dating," you explain.

"Rhett Abbott doesn't 'date'," she tells you, eyes narrowed. "He has sex with whatever buckle bunny catches his eye.”

“He’s not like that,” you argue, defensive at the way she speaks about him. You know Rhett’s reputation, pretty much everyone does, but you saw a different side of him last night and this morning. You know there’s something more under that charming smile. He listened when no one else did and that means something to you. 

“Honey, please,” she says dismissively. “That boy is nothing but trouble and trash. You best stay away from him."

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you tell her, voice warbling with emotion. “He’s not like everyone says.”

Sandra’s perfectly plucked brows disappear into her hairline. “Alright, alright,” she concedes, hands held up. “Just be careful. He might not stick around after he gets what he wants from you.”

“He’s stuck around the last two months just fine,” you fire back, only realizing after the words are out that you and Rhett never talked about a timeline. 

“Really?” Sandra says, leaning in closer enough for you to catch the fruity scent of the gum she smacks noisily. “That certainty explains why he hasn’t been hanging around the Handsome Gambler lately. I just thought maybe he was getting serious about bull riding or Royal had him on a short leash after the last fight.” She leans back, looking contemplative. “Well, that was some exciting gossip for a Friday morning.”

“Please don’t spread this around,” you ask her, knowing full well she would. Although the idea of people talking about your personal life made your skin crawl, you knew if Rhett were here he’d say it was good. The more it spread, the more likely your stalker would learn of it and back off. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promises you, crossing her fingers and winking. 

Sandra spends the rest of your time together on her phone, chewing on the endless supply of gum she keeps next to the register. You’re normally not a self involved person but you’re fairly certain she’s texting about you and Rhett. During lunch, you send him a text of your own about your conversation with Sandra. He responds immediately with a thumbs up emoji which doesn’t help your anxiety. What if he was mad? What if he was with another girl at that time and you just screwed up this whole story?

You spend your shift distracted, overthinking what you told Sandra enough that you keep losing track of the inventory you’re working on. Eventually you give up and volunteer to work the till. An unexpectedly busy afternoon keeps your focus on the task at hand and you don’t even notice it’s 5 p.m. until you look up and find Rhett in line for your register, a shopping basket in hand. 

He steps up to the counter and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you return, feeling unexpectedly shy. You stare at him long enough that he clears his throat and nudges the basket towards you.

“You gonna check me out?” he asks, his tone playful. 

Beside you, Sandra scoffs. When you spare her a glance, you find her watching Rhett. His attention, though, is focused on you. 

“What’s all this?” You question, taking out the deadbolt kit and some window locks.

“For your apartment. When I was there last night I saw they could use an update.”

“Rhett…” you trail off, embarrassed. 

He seems to sense your emotions and leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I think this is the part where you ask me, cash or card,” he whispers. 

“Will that be cash or card?” You ask, thankful for how easily he dispels your discomfort.

After you’ve finished checking him out, you clock out and let him walk you to his truck with an arm around your shoulder.  Once you reach your apartment he pulls out a tool bag from the bed of the truck and says he’ll install the new deadbolt while you get ready. A part of you wants to protest or offer to pay him for the supplies, while another is too embarrassed to draw attention to what he’s doing for you, so instead you say nothing and disappear into your room.

“Pretty sure they’re doing line dancing tonight,” Rhett calls out in between the sounds of the power drill. “You got some boots you can wear?”

“Uh…I think so," you half yell back, staring at the contents of your closet. 

You have to get on your hands and knees and pull aside a few boxes to find a pair of brown boots. The last time you wore them was for high school graduation, back when your grandfather had been alive. You trace the delicate lines of embroidery around the calf, pale pink and periwinkle flowers connected by green vines. There hadn’t been a reason to wear them since, all you did was go to work and come home. 

Tonight seems as good as any and you stand to finish getting dressed. The sundress and jean jacket are a little dated but they’re comfortable and look nice enough. Once you’ve managed to fix your hair and makeup, you return to the living room to find Rhett replacing the old window locks.

The creak in the floor draws his attention to you briefly before his eyes return to the window. A second later they’re back on you. He blinks and stands, clearing his throat. 

“I think I’m ready," you announce. 

“You, ah, look real nice,” he tells you, nodding. “I like the flowers.” 

“Thanks. You look nice too,” you add, touching your neck self-consciously when he doesn’t immediately speak again but keeps watching you.

“Well…we should probably get going then.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Rhett gather up his tools. “Thanks again for installing that stuff.” 

Rhett nods. “I’ll finish up with the other windows tomorrow.”

The drive to the bar is quiet. Rhett’s fingers drum on the steering wheel as you wait at the stoplight. You cycle through potential conversation openers but discard them all. Nothing feels right, and you realize that the sour pit in your stomach only grows the closer you get to the Handsome Gambler. 

Would he be there tonight you wondered? Just the thought of seeing him is enough to make your breath come quickly and your hands tremble. You exhale and close your eyes, trying to get yourself together. Rhett is here. 

When the engine cuts out you look up, eyes drawn to the neon glow of the Handsome Gambler’s sign. Rhett’s quick to meet you at the curb, offering his arm. You curl your hand around his bicep and he draws you close. At this time of night, the bar is busy, humming with energy and conversation. Rhett navigates the crowd with ease, exchanging brief hellos with a few people, finally stopping at an empty booth. You slide in and he follows. 

“Want a beer?” He asks.

You’re not much of a drinker but you nod anyway. Rhett flags down a waitress and a few minutes later two cold beers are dropped off at your table. You fiddle with the label as Rhett takes a long swig and leans back, shoulders relaxing. When you sense him watching, you bring the bottle to your lips and take a drink. It’s cold and a little bitter on your tongue. Your distaste for it must show because Rhett cocks his head to the side with a faint smile on his lips.

“I can order you something else,” he offers. “Wine? Something fruity?”

“Maybe something fruity… honestly though this is okay. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Rhett shakes his head and flags down the waitress again, ordering you a daiquiri. “It won’t go to waste,” he assures you, pulling the beer toward him.

You return his smile as he rests his arm along the back of the booth. His fingertips hover just above your shoulder, not quite touching your jacket. This close to him you can smell his cologne, faint and a little musky but nice. Everything about this is surprisingly nice, including the way his denim-clad leg presses against yours, warm and firm. 

“He’s not here,” Rhett announces and you look up at him sharply. He’s still scanning the bar as he sips from his beer. For one silly moment, you forgot why you were even here, something that seemed impossible earlier. 

“Should we go?” You ask Rhett.

You’d only come to make it clear to the man that you were with Rhett.

“What?” Rhett’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “Why? You wanna go?”

“No.” You shake your head just as the waitress arrives with your drink. “We came so he’d see…”

“There’s more than one way to make sure he knows,” Rhett tells you, pushing up the brim of his hat before leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek. “Look to your right, past the pool tables. You see those men?” You nod, watching the rowdy group in the corner playing darts as you absently sip your drink. 

“They all work at the Dustin ranch, including the one in the baseball cap who keeps looking at us.” At that moment, the man in question stands up for his turn and looks back, meeting your eyes. If he is surprised to find you looking, he doesn’t show it. He holds your gaze for a second before glancing at Rhett who smirks and waves. His expression doesn’t change but when he turns back you catch a brief flash of something.

“He’ll make sure Jimmy gets the message that you’re with me.”

“Jimmy?”

“Your stalker," Rhett clarifies. "After I dropped you off this morning I paid a friend of mine a visit that’s friendly with the foreman of the Dustin ranch. That’s the man’s name. He hangs out with the guy in the baseball cap, Rick.” 

“Oh.” You stare at the table, trying to process the information Rhett gave you.

When he says your name softly you realize several minutes have passed in silence. “Sorry, I….” you trail off and look back at the man with the baseball cap. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Rhett says. “This is a lot.”

You nod, lips pressed together because you don’t trust yourself to speak. 

“Line dancing looks fun,” he notes, taking a swig of beer. “Might be a nice distraction and you can put those fancy boots to good use.”

“They’re not fancy,” you defend. 

“Hmmm, don’t look like nothing I’ve seen at the feed store,” he teases. “Come on.” He stands and offers his hand. 

You let him pull you up and follow him to the dance floor as Vince Gill’s What The Cowgirls Do fades from the speakers and a soft, more subdued song  plays. The crowd thins and you realize the remaining dancers are pairing up. Rhett doesn’t seem deterred by the change in music, grasping your right hand and wrapping his left arm loosely around your body. His palm rests firmly on your shoulder blade, pulling your body close to his. After a moment of hesitation, you settle your left arm on his bicep.

“It’s been a while since I’ve danced like this,” you admit, watching how easily the other couples move around the dance floor. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Rhett promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little but he’s quick to adjust his pace for you, whispering words of encouragement. Maybe it's how Rhett guides you around the dance floor or some long buried muscle memory from high school but soon enough you’re moving in sync. Then he raises his arm to spin your body in a circle before quickly drawing you back into his arms. When he does it again a second time, a breathless laugh escapes you. 

“Atta girl,” Rhett says, drawing you closer. 

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over when he speaks those two simple words. The world narrows to Rhett’s handsome face, his blue eyes dark pools in the dim light. Your chest constricts, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. It’s only when someone else bumps into the two of you and the spells breaks that you realize a new, more upbeat song is playing. 

Rhett’s lashes flutter and he releases you, his gaze falling away a moment later. 

“Beer’s probably getting warm,” he says and you hum your agreement, letting him lead you back to your seat.

Before you can make it, two men you don’t recognize stop Rhett. 

“Shit, that you Abbott?” The shorter one questions, swaying on his feet. 

You watch Rhett for his reaction, only relaxing when he smiles. “Smitty.”

“Heard you’re riding tomorrow.”

“I am,” Rhett agrees.

“Damn,now we gotta go to see that,” he tells his friend before turning his attention to you. “Did you know your boyfriend's one of the best damn bull riders in these parts?" He asks. 

You’re not sure what to say so you just nod. 

“You guys gotta come get a drink with us,” Smitty says. 

“Thanks, but my girl and I were about to head out,” Rhett says, capturing your hand in his. “Y'all have a good night.”

My girl. 

Rhett uses that phrase so casually, like he’s done it 100 times before. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where it’s true, losing yourself in the fantasy long enough to miss the rest of their conversation. When Smitty and his friend stumble away, Rhett leads you back to the booth where  your daiquiri has all but melted. If Rhett’s beer is warm, he doesn’t show it, finishing it off in one gulp. 

“If you want to get a drink with your friends…,” you start hesitantly.

Rhett’s quick to cut you off with a shake of his head.  “Not with those two dipshits. They’re fun for sure but… trouble too.”

You turn to face him. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He waves your comment away, grinning with one side of his mouth. “Maybe, but it aint suitable for girls with flowers on their boots.” 

The rest of the evening passes surprisingly easy, so much so that before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and you’ve all but forgotten about Jimmy and the man in the hat. Rhett pays your bill with cash and walks you to his car, keeping a hand on your lower back. 

Once you arrive at your apartment, Rhett turns off the truck and leans forward to look out the windshield.

“Want me to stay the night?” He asks, leaning back. 

You do, but you’re aware of just how much he’s done for you already; staying over last night and pretending with you at the bar. You should decline and let him go home to sleep in a real bed but behind him you can see the dark windows of your apartment and the words catch in your throat. 

“Never was an Eagle Scout,” he starts, pulling a black duffle bag from behind the seat, “but I came prepared.”

You stare at the bag, surprised, and when you look back at Rhett he gives you that half smile of his, brow arched. You find yourself nodding before you can think too hard about it.

“Alright,” Rhett says, opening his door, “come on.”

That night you sleep better than you have in weeks and when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of your bedroom.  Rhett is already up, a mug of coffee in hand. He looks lost in thought, a deep crease between his brows but his expression clears when he sees you. 

“Made coffee,” he says, raising his mug. “Hope that was alright.”

“Of course,” you’re quick to tell him. 

“I won't be able to pick you up after work,” Rhett says, following you into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. “Gotta be at the rodeo early but my Ma said she’d be there.”

“Okay.” You yawn as you doctor your coffee to make it sweet enough to drink.

“Looks like I kept you out too late,” he observes, watching you over the rim of his mug. 

“No, it was…” you pause searching for the right word but come up short. “I appreciate it,” you finally settle on. 

Rhett nods, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

When he sets his empty mug in the sink, you head back to your room and get ready for work.  Once you’re dressed, you reach for the beat-up tennis shoes you always wear, stopping short when you see your boots from last night. You hesitate for only a second before slipping them on instead. 

Rhett drops you off with a kiss on your cheek and a wave to Sandra, who watches the two of you from the front window display. The day passes uneventfully, without any sign of Jimmy. A little after 6 pm the Abbotts come to collect you. Cecilia is warm and open, asking about work while Royal drives, glancing at you occasionally in the rearview mirror. You’ve only met Rhett’s father in passing and always found him to be an intimidating man. Tonight he’s mostly silent, only chiming in when you tell Cecilia about an issue that happened today with Donald Everrtt’s lumber order.

“That man’s got more cows than sense,” Royal grumbles and you laugh when Cecilia chastises him.

Leaning back and gazing out the window, you think about your own parents. They weren’t so different from Rhett’s and you’d forgotten how nice something as simple as this could feel. Thinking of them hurts like it always does and you swallow around the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by listening to Cecilia and Royal talk about Rhett and the bull he’s meant to ride tonight. 

When you arrive at the rodeo, it’s loud and chaotic. The announcer booms something about the bull riding beinging soon. It doesn’t escape your notice that Royal and Cecilia keep you between them as they guide you through the crowd of people to the metal bleachers where Rhett’s brother and his family are waiting. Their daughter, Amy, is quick to question you once you’re seated. 

“Are you Uncle Rhett’s girlfriend?” she asks, leaning around Cecilia to see you.

You stare at her, unsure how to answer with so many people around. Rhett had shared the plan with his parents but you weren’t sure who else knew the truth. Your silence makes Amy’s  little brows furrow, a look so reminiscent of her uncle that it almost makes you smile. 

Thankfully Cecilia interjects before you have to figure out what to say. “Yes, Amy.”

Before Amy can ask you any more questions, her mother suggests they get some popcorn. Once they disappear, Perry takes a swig from the flask in his boot, and when he sees his mother looking, he makes a face.

“Come on Ma,” he grumbles, but Cecilia pins him with a silent, angry look and he eventually puts the flask away, sighing heavily.

There are several riders before Rhett and you watch each of them get thrown from their bull with increasing anxiety. You search for him among the crowd of riders at the far end of the fence. When you spot him, you’re surprised to find he’s watching you. He grins, tipping his hat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it fills you with a fluttering warmth that lasts long after he looks away to acknowledge his parents. 

When it’s finally Rhett’s turn to ride, you rub your hands on your thighs anxiously. The buzzer goes off and you flinch as the gate is ripped open. The world narrows to Rhett, the bull, and the sound of your own breathing. The seconds tick past agonizingly slow until he’s thrown from the bull. 

Dust flies and the bull stomps. You stand up, searching until you find him stock still in the dirt. You make a small, terrified sound and Royal touches your shoulder drawing your gaze. 

“He’s okay. Just got the breath knocked from him,” he assures you. 

You look at Cecilia who seems just as concerned but then a second later the bull is gone and Rhett stands. His gaze is focused on the scoreboard but you watch him. His expression is serious, lips pressed into a thin line as his chest heaves. Then suddenly he smiles, open joy written across his features and the crowd cheers. When you look up his name is first on the board. 

Beside you, Royal yells and Perry sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. Cecilia shouts his name and Amy jumps with excitement. You expect Rhett to come straight to his parents but he makes a beeline for you, climbing up the bleachers and past people with ease. 

“Rhett,” you start, whatever you were going to say cut short by his lips on yours. The kiss is intense but brief. When he pulls away, he looks as surprised as you feel. You stare at one another before suddenly he’s pulled back by an older man who claps him on the shoulder. More people push forward to offer him congratulations. 

“Let him hear you one more time,” the announcer encourages. “Ladies and gentlemen, your hometown hero, Rhett Abbott!”

You touch your lips, mind working hard to process what just happened. Rhett looks back, eyes glued to yours as he’s pulled back into the ring.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cecilia urges, patting your arm. “Let’s wait for him at the other end. Less people.”

You can’t see her eyes under the brim of your hat but you suddenly realize she and about a hundred other people just witnessed what Rhett did. You have no idea what his parents must think. There’s another feeling under the embarrassment and awkwardness that you don’t investigate too closely. 

“Well that was something,” Royal says and you glance up at him sharply before you realize he’s talking about Rhett’s ride. 

Cecilia smiles. “He’s gonna ride next weekend in the finals for sure.”

“I knew he’d make it,” Royal says proudly and you smile at both of them, nodding your agreement. 

After a few minutes, Perry arrives alone. “It was getting late so I thought it best Amy went home,” he tells the three of you, hands on his hips. “She can celebrate with us tomorrow.”

“Hmmm and I suppose you’re gonna help your brother celebrate tonight?” Cecilia asks, judgment clear in her tone.

“Yeah. Handsome Gambler,” he confirms, clapping Rhett on the back as he arrives. “You’ll be drinking for free, that’s for sure.” 

“Did you consider that your brother might not want to go?” Cecilia asks, looking at you pointedly. 

“Oh, that’s alright. We can go,” you say, feeling even more awkward.

Perry grins and leans in. This close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Great, I’ll get us a booth.”

He disappears before Rhett even has a chance to speak. Cecilia sighs and Royal rubs her back. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he reminds her.

“I know,” she concedes. “But be safe,” she adds, looking intently at Rhett.

“I will,” he promises her, nodding seriously.  

Cecilia offers you a tight hug, promising to stop by the store later in the week. Once she and Royal are gone, you’re alone with Rhett. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, looking back at you. “For the kiss. I shoulda asked if you were okay with that. I was out of line.”

“It’s okay. It uh, was good. Lots of people saw. That’s the point right?”

He stares at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah, that’s the point," he agrees, finally before his gaze flicks away. “But, we don’t have to go to the Gambler tonight. Perry’s just��� Perry,” he finishes with a long suffering sigh. 

You think about how excited he was before and what tonight means for him. He’d done so much for you lately, the least you could do was go with him to the bar. There was no way he’d drop you off and home and go alone. You had fun with him last night after all. Maybe tonight would be just as nice. 

“We can go,” you tell him but he frowns, clearly unconvinced. It’s late and you’re tired but it isn’t hard to manage a genuine smile for him. “Afterall, I brought my dancing boots,” you add, pulling up your jeans to reveal them. 

“Alright,” he agrees, his expression lightening. 

The bar is more crowded than last night and Rhett keeps you close. Everyone wants to talk to him, including Maria. You can’t help but feel jealous at the way she lays a hand on Rhett’s arm and leans in close to speak to him. She’s even more beautiful than she was in high school when half the town knew he’d been in love with her.

Watching them together and seeing the easy way he smiled at her, you wonder if he still is. That makes your chest ache, which is silly. You and Rhett weren’t actually together. Nothing, from the dance last night to his kiss earlier, was real. It was an act because you caught the wrong kind of attention. Suddenly, you want to be anywhere but here. You take a step away but Rhett’s quick to face you, his hand shooting out to grasp your elbow.

You lean in to be heard over the din of the bar. “I need to use the restroom but Perry said he can come with me,” you lie, looking over your shoulder at his brother. 

“I can come,” Rhett tells you, setting his beer down. 

You wave him off. “Catch up with your friends.”

When you realize Rhett doesn’t turn around immediately you’re forced to actually ask Perry. He agrees and finishes off his beer, following after you a little unsteady. You take your time in the bathroom, splashing water on your face and staring at your reflection. It’s quiet here but your mind is buzzing. You close your eyes and sigh. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, lost in thought but eventually a toilet flushes and you stand straight. You were being selfish, Rhett deserved to celebrate tonight without worrying over you. 

With a deep breath you head back into the bar, searching for Perry. When you left he was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. Now he’s nowhere to be found. You only make it a few steps before someone’s hand closes around your wrist and tugs you back. You spin around, half expecting to find Rhett but it’s not him. 

Green eyes meet yours. 

“Hi baby,” Jimmy says, smiling. 

[msilwrites]

More Trouble (Johnny 'Soap' Fic) - Two

Whatever size/colour/ethnicity you are, you are hot in Johnny's Eyes! Reader, Soap is smitten with you! Reader, Agent! Reader, Reboot! Johnny, Reboot! Soap, but he is Captain! Soap (Now!!), Captain! Johnny, Captain! Soap, Fuckboi! Soap, Manwhore! Soap, Judgemental! Johnny, Judgemental! Soap, Shameless! Soap, Cocky! Soap, Bastard! Soap

Soap x Reader , Soap x Y/N , Click here for Part 1 | This is Part 2 | Part 3 ( In Progress)

NSFW

Genre: Drama/Comedy/ with some Smut MDNI Summary:

After you disappeared on Johnny following that passionate night, you quickly realized you had forgotten your bracelet at his place. A few hours later, you called him to retrieve it, but Johnny had other plans. He playfully suggested that he would hold onto the bracelet until you met him again, turning the situation into a flirtatious game.

Despite your initial resistance, you found yourself falling back into his arms. What started as a simple arrangement to get your bracelet back evolved into a weekend ritual where you and Johnny would meet, the passion between you undeniable. However, as the weeks turned into months, the relationship became more complicated. Pregnancy scares and arguments began to surface, and you realized that you wanted more than just a physical connection.

You found yourself falling in love with Johnny, but you knew he wouldn't take you seriously. The emotional turmoil and the realization that you deserved more led you to decide to move on. Unfortunately, Johnny refused to let you go, his obsession growing more intense with each passing day. Good luck escaping him, Birdie—because he won’t let you slip away so easily! In fact, he won't let you escape at all.

A/N:

This is the continuation of Trouble, featuring our sunshine Captain Johnny Soap MacTavish—who just so happens to be a little obsessed with you! Buckle up for the whirlwind, the chaos, and the sizzling tension. Enjoy! 💙

----------

Johnny's lounging at home, the bracelet dangling from his fingers, when his phone rings. The caller ID shows an unknown number, piquing his curiosity. He answers, his voice casual but guarded.

"Hello?"

It's you—your voice cool and businesslike, but he can sense the underlying tension.

"Hey, it’s me. I need my bracelet back."

Johnny's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He smirks, leaning back in his chair, the realization dawning on him that it's you on the other end of the line. "Oh, now you remember me, Birdie. Thought you’d flown off for good."

You sigh softly, trying to keep your composure. "Look, I spent a lot on that bracelet. It’s not sentimental—it’s expensive. Just... I need it back."

Johnny's grin widens, a mix of amusement and satisfaction playing on his lips. "Expensive, eh? Then I reckon I’m holdin’ onto it ‘til you meet me again. Fair trade, don’t you think?"

There's a pause as you bite your lip, trying to think of a way out. "Can’t you just mail it to me? Or drop it off somewhere neutral?"

Johnny's tone turns playful but firm, hinting at his hurt pride. "You disappeared on me, lass. Think I’m lettin’ you off that easy? Not a chance. You want it, you come get it."

----------

Reluctantly, you agree to meet at a quiet café. As you walk in, Johnny's cheeky grin throws you off. He's leaning back in his chair, the bracelet dangling teasingly from his fingers.

"There’s my runaway Birdie. Fancy seein’ you again."

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your cool. "I’m just here for the bracelet, MacTavish."

Johnny's grin widens. "And here I thought you missed me."

The banter escalates, the chemistry sparking just as strong as before. You reach for the bracelet, but Johnny pulls it back, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Not so fast," he says, his voice low and commanding. Before you can react, he grabs your wrist and pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you. You can feel the heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles, and the unmistakable bulge pressing against you. "You can’t just waltz back in, get what you want, and leave. What’s the rush, eh? Sit with me a while."

Your breath hitches as you feel his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but melt into his embrace. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and you know you're in for more than just a simple meeting.

Reluctantly, you agree to stay. The conversation flows, and before you know it, you're back at Johnny's place. The passion reignites, and this time, Johnny is determined not to let you slip away.

----------

"You think you can keep runnin’, but I’ve got news for you, Birdie. You’re not just walkin’ out on me this time."

The air between you is electric as Johnny's words hang heavy with promise. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of determination and desire burning in their depths. You can feel the tug of his strong arms, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and the unmistakable connection that pulls you closer.

As you find yourselves back at Johnny's place, the tension that had been building all day finally snaps. His hands roam over your body, both gentle and demanding, exploring every curve and contour. You can feel his breath hot on your skin, his lips trailing kisses that leave you breathless and wanting more.

"You drive me crazy, Birdie," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I can't get enough of you."

You smile, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. "You're not so bad yourself, MacTavish."

His eyes darken with desire as he begins to undress you, his touch deliberate and teasing. You help him, your hands trembling with anticipation. His shirt comes off next, revealing his sculpted body, and you can't help but admire how sexy he looks.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Very much," you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

With a swift movement, Johnny scoops you up, swinging you effortlessly onto his broad shoulders. You let out a surprised laugh as he carries you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you securely. He throws you onto the bed, and before you can react, he's on top of you, using his strength and weight to pin you down.

"You're not going anywhere, Birdie," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "Not this time."

Your breath hitches as you feel his body press against yours, the heat between you intensifying. His lips find yours in a passionate kiss, and you lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside fading away. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a claim, a promise that this time, things will be different.

The passion between you is intense, a dance of give and take, of pleasure and need. His hands explore your body, his touch both gentle and demanding, driving you wild with desire. You arch against him, your body responding to his every touch, your moans filling the room.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together, Johnny reaches for the bracelet. His fingers brush against your skin as he carefully places it back on your wrist. The gesture feels intimate, almost like a claim, solidifying your connection even if neither of you admits it yet.

"There you go, Bonnie," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "This belongs on you. Just like you belong here with me."

You tease him about finally giving it back, but the smile on his lips and the warmth in his eyes tell a different story. "You just can't resist keeping me close, can you?" you whisper, your voice soft with contentment.

Johnny's grin widens, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Never, Bonnie. You're mine now."

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, a mix of emotions swirls within you. You feel safe, protected by his strong embrace, yet there's a lingering uncertainty. You wonder if Johnny will take you seriously, if this connection is more than just physical. His presence is comforting, his touch electrifying, but the future feels uncertain, leaving you with a sense of both belonging and fear.

----------

The Weekend 'Tradition'

From that night on, you both fell into an unspoken routine. You’d show up at his place on Fridays, and by Saturday morning, Johnny would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast with a self-satisfied smirk.

Your weekends were a heady mix of passion and playful arguments. He’d tease you about your high-maintenance tastes, calling you “Princess” just to watch you scowl, while you rolled your eyes at his cocky charm.

“You think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?” you muttered one morning, pulling the sheet up around your bare chest.

Johnny, still shirtless and looking entirely too smug, leaned back against the headboard. “Aye. And judging by last night, I’d say I’m right.”

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly, laughing.

But it wasn’t just the physical chemistry that kept you coming back to each other. You texted during the week—playful, flirty exchanges that Johnny looked forward to more than he cared to admit. Sometimes, you’d send him a picture of your lunch, and he’d reply with something ridiculous like, “Ye know that’s not real food, right? Come over, and I’ll make you a proper meal.”

It was easy, fun, and thrillingly uncomplicated. At least, that’s what Johnny thought.

----------

The Pregnancy Scare

One weekend, you didn’t show up on time. Johnny waited, pacing his flat, his phone clutched in his hand as he debated whether to call you.

When you finally texted, it wasn’t your usual sarcastic remark or teasing quip. It was a simple, cryptic message: We need to talk.

Johnny’s heart sank. Never good, that.

When you arrived, you looked unusually tense, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. Johnny greeted you with his usual cheeky grin, but it faltered when you didn’t immediately snap back at him.

“Alright, Birdie?” he asked, his tone softening.

You hesitated, then blurted it out: “I might be pregnant.”

Johnny froze. For a moment, the words didn’t register. Then his brain caught up, and he blinked at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“You... what?”

“I’m late,” you said quickly, your voice uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought you should know.”

Johnny stared at you, his mind racing. Then, to your utter shock, he grinned. “Well, I guess I’d better brush up on my lullabies.”

You gawked at him. “Johnny, this isn’t a joke—”

“I’m not jokin’,” he interrupted, his tone sincere. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Birdie, whatever happens, I’ve got you, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

For once, you didn’t have a snarky response. You just stared at him, a mix of disbelief and something softer in your eyes.

----------

Making Johnny Jealous

Johnny lay sprawled on the bed, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths, a lazy grin on his face. The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across his skin. He watched you from where he lay, his head propped up on one arm.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress—simple, elegant, and far too classy for someone who had just spent the night tangled in his sheets. You smoothed your hair, adding a touch of lipstick to your already swollen lips.

Johnny smirked, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. “What’s the rush, Birdie? Cannae stay for breakfast? I make a mean fry-up.”

You didn’t even glance at him, focused on slipping your earrings in. “Tempting, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Johnny’s grin faltered, a faint furrow forming between his brows. “Somewhere more important than me?”

Finally, you turned to look at him, your tone casual—too casual. “I’ve got a date. Don’t want to be late.”

For a moment, Johnny froze. His brain scrambled to process your words, replaying them like a scratched record. “A... a date?” His voice cracked slightly at the word.

You nodded, your expression calm, like you hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on him. “Yeah, you know, dinner, conversation, maybe something long-term if it works out. People do that, Johnny.”

Johnny sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist, his hands bracing on the mattress as if to steady himself. “Wait a minute. You’re tellin’ me you’re goin’ on a bloody date right after... after—” He gestured wildly to the bed, his face a mix of disbelief and irritation.

You shrugged, picking up your clutch. “We’re not in a relationship. You said it yourself—we’re just having fun, right? No strings.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with possessiveness. “Aye, I said no strings, but that was before I claimed you as mine. You think you can just walk away from that? From us?”

Your brow arched, defiant. “Johnny, this isn’t about ownership. I’m looking for stability, for something serious. You’re... well...” You gestured to him—shirtless, rumpled, and indignant in his bed. “You’re great in bed, but this? This isn’t long-term material.”

Johnny let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked any humor. “So what? You’re just gonna find some rich tosser to settle down with? That’s your plan?”

You crossed your arms, your tone firm. “If he’s stable and can offer me the kind of life I want, then yes. That’s the plan.”

Johnny swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing in one fluid motion. His broad frame towered over you, his frustration palpable. “Stable? Birdie, you think I cannae give you that? What, you think I’m just some daft squaddie who can’t keep up with you?”

You tilted your chin up, meeting his fiery gaze with your own. “Johnny, I don’t even know what you do. You disappear for weeks without a word, you show up out of nowhere, and you expect me to believe you can offer stability?”

His lips twitched into a smirk, despite the tension. “Maybe I like keepin’ you on your toes. Keeps things excitin’, eh? But that doesn’t mean you can just go shaggin’ whoever you want. We had an arrangement, Birdie. You’re mine, and that means something.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him to grab your coat. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re not serious, Johnny. And I don’t have time to wait for you to figure out what you want. You can’t have it both ways—claiming me as yours and then acting like I’m just some casual fling.”

As you headed for the door, Johnny caught your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. His voice softened, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. “Birdie... you cannae just leave. Not like this. Not after...” He trailed off, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

You looked at him, your resolve unwavering. “I’m not leaving, Johnny. I’m just... moving on.”

As much as you hated to admit it, the date was actually just with your girl friends. You were spending time with them, and you were pissed with Johnny and the way he treats you sometimes—claiming and being possessive, but acting casual with your relationship. You just wanted to piss him off, to make him feel a fraction of the frustration you felt. You think of this as you walk out of his house, your heels clicking sharply on the pavement, your mind a whirlwind of anger and determination.

He let you go, watching as you walked out the door, the sound of your heels echoing down the hall. For a moment, he stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Then, with a determined glint in his eye, he muttered to himself, “We’ll see about that, Birdie. You can run, but I’m not lettin’ you go that easy.”

----------

An Unexpected Return

It was a Saturday morning, and Johnny was sprawled on the bed, a cocky grin plastered across his face as you slipped into your jeans. The sheets were tangled around his waist, and he looked entirely too pleased with himself, his bare chest rising and falling lazily.

Much to Johnny's delight, you had come back after your last heated exchange. Despite your initial anger and frustration, you found yourself drawn back to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. You had resumed your weekend sex sessions, each encounter more intense and passionate than the last.

“So, Birdie,” he drawled, propping himself up on an elbow, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “How’d that wee date of yours go, then? Hope the poor lad didn’t bore you to death.”

You shot him a sharp look over your shoulder as you zipped up your jeans. “None of your business.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he teased, his grin widening. “You’re not gonna tell me he didn’t measure up, are you? Not everyone can, y’know.” His voice dropped an octave, dripping with smug confidence.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you sauntered back toward the bed, leaning down just enough to grab your shirt from the floor. “Let’s just say,” you murmured, your tone sweet as honey, “you’re a lot better at talking than you are at listening, Johnny.”

Before he could fire back, you tugged your shirt over your head and turned to leave. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, entirely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

----------

A Dance of Tension

The weekends continued as usual, your "situationship" a tangled web of passion and unspoken tension. Every time Johnny teased you about your "dates," you put him firmly back in his place—often quite literally. The truth was, it wasn't a real date; it was just a simple outing with friends, meant to make Johnny jealous. And while it had worked, his teasing only increased, fueling the fire between you.

Despite your search for a man who could offer stability, you found yourself continually drawn back to Johnny. The magnetic pull between you was undeniable, and the passion you shared was intoxicating.

“Tell me, Birdie,” Johnny groaned one night, his hands gripping your hips as you rode him with deliberate, punishing control. “Did he kiss you like this?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking as you leaned forward, your hands splayed against his chest. “No,” you whispered against his ear, your voice laced with mockery. “He was a gentleman. Something you’ll never be.”

“Good,” Johnny rasped, his grip tightening. “’Cause I’d hate to have to ruin him for you.”

You laughed, low and wicked, but your heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t worry, Johnny. Once I find the right guy, someone stable who can give me the life I want, I’ll stop coming back to you.”

Johnny's eyes flashed with anger, and he gripped your waist tighter, pistoning his pelvis up roughly. “You think you can just walk away from this?” he growled, his voice thick with desire and frustration. “You think any other man can make you feel like this?”

You laughed again, your head tilted back as you reveled in the sensation. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice breathy. “But I need more than just passion, Johnny. I need stability.”

Johnny's grip on your waist became almost bruising, his movements more urgent. “You’re mine, Bonnie,” he rasped, his voice dark and possessive. “No other man is going to have you. You’ll always come back to me, no matter how hard you try to fight it.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and exhilaration. The line between passion and pain was blurring, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up the facade. You were falling for him, and it terrified you.

----------

End of the Line

One night, it all comes to a head.

Your chest aches as you watch Johnny stride out of the bathroom, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and a towel slung low on his hips. It's impossible not to take in the sight of him, all taut muscle and raw masculinity, the very image of temptation. For a split second, you waver, your mind screaming at you to rethink everything.

You're sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Johnny, fresh out of the shower, runs a towel through his damp hair as he walks into the room. He frowns when he sees your expression.

“Birdie?” he asks, his voice softer than usual. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, refusing to meet his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Johnny.”

His grin falters. He steps further into the room, water still glistening on his skin. “What are you on about, lass? We’re fine. You were just in my bed an hour ago, screaming my name, far as I recall.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you don’t back down. “This isn’t fine. It’s messy and complicated, and it’s not going anywhere.”

Johnny frowns, his hands resting on his hips. The towel shifts slightly, which isn’t helping your focus. “What’s brought this on, then? Thought you were happy.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Happy? Johnny, I’m not even sure what this is. We’re not in a relationship, but we’re not just hooking up either. And the pregnancy scare—”

“That turned out to be nothing,” he interrupts quickly, though his tone is softer now, almost pleading.

“It wasn’t ‘nothing’ to me,” you snap, your voice rising. “It made me realize how dangerous this is. I can’t keep doing this with you.”

You steel yourself, gripping the strap of your purse tightly. You aren’t going to let him or your feelings pull you back in. Not this time.

Johnny’s piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, his brows furrowing in anger and confusion. “So that’s it, then?” His voice is sharp, almost accusing. “You’re just walking away like none of this meant anything to you?”

Your heart clenches painfully, but you refuse to show it. “Don’t you dare,” you shoot back, your voice low and trembling. “Don’t you turn this on me. This isn’t about what it meant to me, Johnny. It’s about what it doesn’t mean to you.”

He scoffs, running a hand through his wet hair in frustration. “What the hell are you on about? We were fine, Birdie. You were happy, weren’t you? I mean, we had a good thing going.”

“Good thing?” you echo, your voice breaking with bitter incredulity. “Johnny, this—” you gesture between the two of you, your hand trembling, “—this was never about me. It was about convenience. A convenient warm body on the weekends, someone to text when you were bored. But you don’t know me, not really. And that’s not enough for me. Not anymore.”

He takes a step closer, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “That’s bullshit. You knew what this was, and now you’re acting like I’m some kind of villain for it?”

“No, you’re not a villain,” you say, your voice softening for a brief moment before hardening again. “But you’re not what I need, either. I want stability. Someone who knows me beyond the bedroom, who loves me for more than just... this.” You motion vaguely toward yourself, your voice faltering. “And that’s not you.”

“Why not?” he asks, his voice rising again. “You want stability? Fine. I’ll give you that. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you. Be my girlfriend.”

You shake your head, your eyes glistening now. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know anything about me beyond what you’ve made up in your head. I can’t live like this—weekend after weekend, never knowing where you stand, what you’re thinking, or even what you do for a living half the time.”

“And whose fault is that?” he shoots back. “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length since the start. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He scoffs, his pride prickling. “You’re one to talk. I don’t even know what you do. You flit about in your fancy clothes, disappearing whenever it suits you, acting like a bloody princess or—”

“Or what?” you cut in, your eyes narrowing.

He hesitates, but his temper gets the better of him. “Or like some high-end escort.”

Your lips curl into a wicked smirk, though your heart clenches at the insult. “You really think I’m a princess and an escort? Sounds like I’m doing pretty well for myself, then.”

“Don’t start,” he warns, his tone low and tight.

“Why not?” you shoot back, tilting your head defiantly. “Does it bother you, Johnny? That I might have standards? That I like nice things? God forbid a woman treats herself without a man assuming the worst.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Oh, save it,” you interrupt, holding up a hand. “I know what you think of me, and I’ve let you think it because it doesn’t matter. But now you’re using it against me? Classy, Johnny. Really classy.”

“Think whatever you want,” you say, your voice hardening again. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done, Johnny.”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. “So that’s what this is about? You’ve got some other bloke lined up, some stable life you think’s gonna make you happy?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, already tired of this. “It’s not about someone else. It’s about me. I won’t be your convenient distraction forever, Johnny. I can’t.”

His laugh is harsh, bitter. “Aye, sure. You’re so bloody noble, aren’t you? Princess, or whatever you are. Or maybe you’re just a high-end escort who thinks she’s too good for me now, huh?” His words are cutting, his tone venomous. “Who the hell’s gonna love a materialistic, spoiled brat like you? Or a—” he bit back the rest of the sentence, but the damage was already done.

Your chest constricts at his words, the sting of them worse than you had expected. You inhale sharply, trying to hold back tears as you force yourself to look at him. “Thank you,” you say quietly, your voice trembling but steady enough to convey the weight of your decision. “Thank you for helping me solidify my decision, Johnny.”

You grab your purse, pausing only for a moment before shaking your head. “And don’t worry,” you add, your tone soft but firm. “I won’t come crying to you. I’ll be happy somewhere with someone who’ll actually love me.”

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, but you don’t wait for his response. You turn on your heel, walking out of his flat with your head held high, even as your heart feels like it’s shattering with every step.

Johnny stands there in stunned silence, the tension in the air suffocating. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving him alone in the quiet chaos of his living room. For the first time, he feels the true weight of your absence, and it burns in a way he can’t ignore.

----------

Johnny’s Obsession

Johnny had never felt so restless in his life. He’d called you first, dozens of times, but all he got was the droning, detached tone of your voicemail. He messaged you after that, small apologies mixed with clumsy, rambling texts about how you should talk things through. But all you did was leave him on read. No replies. No acknowledgment. Just silence.

Then one day, when he tried calling you again, the line didn’t even ring. Instead, he was met with a sharp, cold message: The number you have dialed has been blocked or is no longer in service.

“Blocked?” Johnny muttered, staring at his phone in disbelief. His blood boiled, and his chest ached.

Fine. If you didn’t want to talk, he’d find you another way.

----------

Johnny Tracks You

Using what little intel he had, Johnny began digging. He didn’t need much—a phone number, a sliver of information, and the skills drilled into him from his time in the SAS were enough to get him started. But the deeper he went, the more roadblocks he hit. Your number led him nowhere—it was registered under a nondescript corporate account with no personal ties. No home address. No employment history.

It didn’t make sense.

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, staring at the screen. His instincts buzzed, a gut feeling that there was more to you than you let on.

Before he could dig deeper, his team was called up for deployment. A quick, high-priority mission that demanded all his focus. But even in the thick of the action, during quiet moments between the chaos, his thoughts drifted back to you. To the way you smirked at him. The way you felt in his arms. The way you walked out of his life.

When Johnny finally returned, worn but eager to resume his search, he tried everything—new tactics, calling in favors—but came up empty again. It was as if your entire life had been scrubbed clean.

And that only made him more suspicious.

----------

The Briefing Begins

Roach’s palms were sweaty as he glanced around the room, double-checking every detail of the briefing materials. He straightened the projector slide one last time before glancing nervously at the glass window of the door.

“Relax, mate,” one of his teammates chuckled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If only, Roach thought bitterly. He wasn’t worried about a ghost—he was worried about Johnny.

The undercover agent, the one briefing the team today, was none other than Johnny’s “birdie.” Or, ex-birdie, technically. Roach had heard all about your situationship—the whirlwind sex, the late-night phone calls, and then the crash-and-burn breakup. Johnny had been moody ever since, which was saying something for the usually upbeat captain.

Now you were here, standing at the front of the room in a smart casual suit that hugged your figure in all the right places. You exuded confidence, your sharp eyes scanning the room as you prepared to deliver your findings. Roach could barely look at you without cringing.

“Let’s just get through this without any incidents,” Roach muttered under his breath.

It didn’t help that their Lieutenant Colonel, Ghost, had mentioned General MacMillan was visiting today. The brass was here, watching their every move, which meant the team had to be on their best behavior. And if Johnny showed up and saw you? Roach didn’t even want to imagine the chaos that would ensue.

----------

Tension in the Room

The briefing began without a hitch, much to Roach’s relief. Johnny was nowhere to be seen, and you were professional, concise, and sharp as ever. Still, Roach couldn’t help sneaking glances at the door every few minutes, half-expecting Johnny to burst in.

But the door stayed shut.

After the briefing, Roach offered to walk you to your car, hoping to usher you out before Johnny caught wind of your presence. You smiled, grateful for the gesture, and began packing up your things.

That’s when the door creaked open.

Roach froze, his stomach sinking as Johnny leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his blue eyes locked on you like a hawk spotting prey. He wore his casual gear, a simple black t-shirt clinging to his chest, his dog tags glinting faintly under the harsh lighting.

“Well, well,” Johnny drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’ve we got here, Roach? Thought I wasn’t needed for this one.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression a mix of shock and wariness.

“Johnny?,” you said, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the room.

“Birdie,” Johnny shot back, the nickname a loaded reminder of what you once had.

Roach gulped, glancing between the two of you like a trapped animal. “Uh, I was just—”

“Leavin’,” Johnny cut in, his gaze never leaving yours.

Roach hesitated, but the intensity in Johnny’s eyes made it clear that sticking around wasn’t an option. With a sheepish nod, he mumbled something about catching up later and bolted for the door.

Now it was just the two of you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Johnny said, his tone casual, but his eyes betrayed him. There was a storm brewing behind them, a mix of hurt, anger, and something deeper he wasn’t ready to name.

“I could say the same,” you replied, squaring your shoulders. You refused to let him intimidate you, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Johnny stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Blocking me. Wiping your tracks clean. You’re real good at disappearing, I’ll give you that.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” he challenged, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like none of it mattered? Like I don’t matter?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “This is my job, Johnny. My life. And you don’t get to interfere with it.”

“Your job,” he repeated bitterly. “And what job is that exactly? Playing dress-up? Whispering secrets to the lads? Or are you still trying to convince me you’re just some posh bird who likes slumming it with soldiers?”

Your eyes flashed with anger, but you bit back your retort, unwilling to let him bait you.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you said quietly, brushing past him toward the door.

But before you could leave, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not forcefully, but enough to stop you in your tracks. The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You looked up at him, your gaze steady despite the tears threatening to form. “I already did.”

The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife as Johnny’s hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you back just enough to stop you from leaving. You froze, your lips pressed into a thin line as you turned to face him again.

“Johnny,” you warned, your voice low.

But he didn’t back down. His blue eyes were blazing, frustration and hurt pouring out of him in waves. “You’re not just walking out of here. Not like this.”

“Oh, like you get a say in it now?” you shot back, your tone sharp. You tried to pull your wrist free, but he held firm—not hurting you, just making it clear he wasn’t letting go.

“You didn’t even tell me, did you?” Johnny said, his voice rising slightly. “What you do. What you really are.”

Your jaw clenched, and you rolled your eyes, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, now you care? It didn’t matter before, did it? Whether I was some spoiled brat, a high-end escort, or just your convenient shag. You never took me seriously anyway.”

“That’s not true,” he snapped, his Scottish accent thick with emotion. “Don’t twist this, Birdie. It does matter—because it’s you.”

You laughed again, bitter and humorless, and reached for your bag. “Well, congratulations, Johnny. Now you know I’m not some high-end prostitute. Feel better about yourself? Good. Now I have to go.”

But before you could take a step, Johnny grabbed your other arm, holding you in place. “You’re not walking out on me again!”

“Oi, mate—don’t!” Roach’s voice broke through the tension as he stepped forward, hands raised cautiously. “She’s a bloody agent, Johnny. You can’t just grab her like that.”

Johnny shot him a glare that could have turned stone to dust. “Stay out of it, Roach.”

Roach hesitated, his eyes darting between the two of you and the door. His heart was racing. If anyone else—especially Ghost or General MacMillan—walked in now, you were all screwed.

“I’m just saying, maybe don’t manhandle the lady in front of the brass!” Roach pleaded.

You looked between Johnny and Roach, your expression one of equal parts disbelief and fury. “Let me go, Johnny,” you said firmly, your voice quieter but no less intense.

He didn’t let go. “Not until we sort this.”

“Sort what?” you hissed, your voice rising now. “There’s nothing to sort, Johnny. I told you what I wanted. Stability. A partner. Someone who could love me for who I am—not just what I can give them. And you—you made it bloody clear that you weren’t that man!”

Johnny’s face twisted, his grip loosening just slightly. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s not fair?” you spat, your eyes flashing with anger. “You called me a materialistic brat! A spoiled princess! You assumed the worst of me at every turn. And now, what? Now it’s not fair because you’re realizing you might have been wrong? Too little, too late, Johnny!”

His voice dropped, quieter but no less intense. “You don’t get it. It’s you. None of that other crap matters—it’s just you.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, your own emotions threatening to spill over. For a moment, it looked like you might say something, but then you shook your head, pulling your arms free.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to chase me now that I’m gone. You had your chance, Johnny. And you blew it.”

You turned to leave, but Johnny’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You think I don’t care?” he called after you. “You think I don’t bloody care about you? You’re in my head, Birdie. Every damn day. Every damn night. You’ve been there since the moment I met you, and you’re still there now, even when I try to bloody forget you.”

You froze, your back still to him, your fingers clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Johnny admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “With you. With how I feel. But don’t you dare tell me I don’t care.”

For a moment, the room was completely silent. Even the lads watching from a distance—wide-eyed and barely breathing—didn’t dare move. Roach was sweating bullets, praying to every deity he could think of that Ghost and General MacMillan wouldn’t come around the corner.

Finally, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable. “You need to figure out what you want, Johnny,” you said softly. “But don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself.”

And with that, you walked past him, your heels clicking against the floor, leaving Johnny standing there, staring after you like a man who’d just lost the only thing that mattered.

You barely made it two steps before Johnny grabbed your arm again, this time more firmly, spinning you back toward him. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was resolute, his determination blazing in those blue eyes of his.

“No, you’re not walking away from me again,” he said, his voice low but sharp with emotion. “We’re not done.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, your lips parting in shock and frustration. “Johnny, let go of me,” you said, your tone icy.

“Not until we talk about this,” he shot back, his accent thick with frustration. “You don’t get to just walk out and decide what this is without giving me a bloody say!”

“This?” You laughed bitterly, throwing your free hand toward him in a dramatic gesture. “You didn’t care about ‘this’ when you were calling me names! When you assumed the worst of me, when you made me feel like I was nothing more than a warm body to keep your bed warm!”

“I never thought that!” he snapped, stepping closer, his grip still firm on your arm. “And I never said you were nothin’, Birdie. I never meant—”

“Oh, don’t you dare backtrack now!” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You made it clear what you thought of me. Some spoiled princess, some materialistic brat, some… high-end escort, as you so eloquently put it!” Your words dripped with venom, and Johnny winced as if each one was a physical blow.

“I was angry!” he said, his voice louder now. “I said shite I didn’t mean, alright? But you—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You drive me mad! You make me feel things I can’t bloody make sense of, and I don’t know how to handle it!”

You yanked your arm free, glaring at him, your chest rising and falling as your emotions boiled over. “So you insult me instead? You reduce me to a caricature of everything I’m not because you can’t figure out your own damn feelings?”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. “Because I didn’t think you’d bloody stay!”

That stopped you. You blinked, your brows furrowing as his words hung in the air between you.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the cracks in his armor that he was finally letting you see.

“But you stayed,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper. “And I didn’t know what to do with that. I didn’t know how to keep you, so I unknowingly pushed you away.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to fight back the sting of tears. “Johnny…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for every bloody thing I said, for every way I hurt you. But don’t walk away from me now. Don’t leave me like this, Birdie. Please.”

For a moment, you faltered. The sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes—it was everything you’d wanted from him, everything you’d begged for silently in your head.

But before you could respond, there was a loud ahem behind you.

Both of you froze, slowly turning your heads toward the sound. Standing just a few feet away, with arms crossed and brows raised, was Ghost. Beside him stood General MacMillan, looking equally bewildered. And flanking them? Ghost’s two teenage daughters, Tommy and Bubby.

The room fell utterly silent except for the muffled sound of someone snickering in the background.

Roach, standing off to the side, looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming on his temple as he glanced nervously between Ghost and the arguing pair.

“Oh no,” Roach mumbled under his breath.

Ghost cleared his throat again, slower this time. “I think,” he said, his tone clipped but calm, “you two need to get a room.”

A/N: Well, folks, it seems Johnny and his Birdie (You, Y/N) turned their lives into Soap’s very own 'soap opera' (PUN INTENDED!!)—and they performed it live for the brass, Ghost’s teenage daughters (one of whom now has the receipts), and a very flustered Roach, who looked like he might just melt into a puddle of secondhand embarrassment. General MacMillan? He was just trying to enjoy the drama without choking on the tension.

Stay tuned for Part 3, where we’ll see if Johnny can salvage his soap opera debut… or if Ghost locks him in a cupboard to rethink all his life choices. 👀

[abbatoirablaze]

The StiXXX List, Chapter 4

Word Count:  1.5k

Warnings:  mentions of cheating.

“I can’t believe you agreed to do that, Bria...”

The sophomore rolled her eyes at her friend and senior mentor, “It’s not that big a deal, Tiff. I mean, you know the team does some good for the school...and I’ll be getting some teaching credits from it...”

“I don’t care how much good the team does,” she scoffed, “I wouldn’t help Johnny Storm if it meant that the world could finally have some peace.  You know, Mike tried to approach me about it because we’re both in the law program, acting like we were all buddy-buddy...”

“Yeah?” she laughed, “and?”

She stopped putting together the packets for the new students and looked at her friend, “It’s Mike Weiss...he was acting because we were in the same field of study that I was somehow his bestie...all because he wants his little eskimo brother to graduate.  Those hockey dicks are-“

“Careful,” she warned her friend, “my brother, your boyfriend, is one of those ‘hockey dicks.’  And-“

“But your brother is different,” she said, shaking her head, “Roque is-“

“Please tell me you don’t still call my brother by his last name!” Bria grimaced, looking at her best friend.

“Well obviously not all the time,” she laughed, as she started working again.  She picked up another packet, ignoring her friend’s look, “come on...keep going with your story, Bri.”

“Girl, you need help if you’re still calling my brother by his last name,” she laughed, “y’all have been dating for two years now.”

“Alright, kid.  Enough analyzing.  Back to your story!”

“I’m just saying-“

“So, what basic rouse did they use on you to get you to say yes?”

“I-they didn’t use a rouse on me...”

“They did if it worked!” she smirked, “unless you just have as soft spot for Storm...should I tell your brother that way he can alert next year’s team that he’s already signed with to properly initiate your little lover boy?”

“I am not into Storm, Tiff.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” she smiled  starting to sing the beginning part of a nursery rhyme, “Bria and Johnny sitting in a tree!”

“You’re so juvenile!” she groaned, rolling her eyes.  Tiffany continued to sing the song, while Bria tried not to laugh, “stop, Tiff!”

“You’re smiling!”

“Yeah, well you’re being stupid...I always laugh when you’re a jackass,” she countered.  When Tiffany didn’t respond, she got quiet, “hey Tiff?  Why’d you say no?”

“Why’d I say no to tutoring the piece of garbage that is Johnny Storm?” she asked, her brow cocking, “come on, Bri...you should know!”

“Tiff...I’m sure he’s not really that bad.”

“Bria...I know that you’ve only met a few of the members of the team because your brother tried to shelter you from a lot of the shit that they did...but Johnny really isn’t a good guy.  I’ve seen him run through way too many women...some of whom were already in relationships before they hooked up with him.”

“Okay...so-so he’s a manwhore...but you can’t blame the fact that some girls cheated on their boyfriends because of him.  They made that decision to do it too!”

“You do what you want with that situation,” Tiff shrugged, backing out of the argument, “you’re a grown woman with your own life.  I’m always gonna look out for you like a little sister, because even if I wasn’t dating your brother, you are like a little sister to me...but when it comes to the team antics, I’m going to keep my head down and ignore those jackasses.  I just want to finish my degree and get on my way to becoming a DA in Boston.”

“You’re really gonna leave me here all alone to go home to Boston when you graduate?”

“Babes...your brother is on the Bruins team.  And your little lover boy is signed with them for next year.  And we’re from Mass...it’s not like it’s a crazy thought to want to go home.  I would think that after today it might be on your mind too...that is, if you can last a whole year dealing with him.”

“Hey Tiff, the team isn’t all that bad, are they?” she asked softly after a moment, “I mean...you and my brother ended up together so some of the guys have to have some redeeming qualities, right?”

Tiff frowned, “it’s really bugging you, isn’t it?  I mean...what I said about how your brother kept you away from the house?”

She nodded and shrugged, “I mean...he always just said that it was because the guys were just that...a bunch of guys living in a house together, so he justified it by acting like they were too rowdy, but I-“

“There were other reasons,” she admitted, “some of the guys aren’t that great...he was doing it to protect you, Bria...your brother may seem like he’s stoic about a lot and doesn’t give a damn about much, but you are the one thing in this world that he care about.  And he didn’t want to see the men that he was on a team with hurting you!”

“Do you-do you think something would happen to me?” she asked curiously, “you know...I mean, I agreed to help out Storm and tutor him-“

“Oh god no.  When I have my nightly dinner call with your brother I’m telling him, and I have no doubt in my mind that by tomorrow morning every single one of those boys will all know who you are before you even so much as step a foot into that house.”

Bri gasped, “Tiff!  You can’t tell my brother about it.  He’ll lose his mind.  He’ll drive all the way here and beat Johnny’s head into a wall!  Especially if you tell him everything I told you!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that Storm hit on you or anything-“

“How did you know that Storm-“

“Baby, I’ve met them enough times to know that Johnny Storm was probably drooling all over you.  You’re a cute young thing.” She smiled, “and you’re a hundred percent his type.  Breathing!”

Bria blushed, “Tiff-“

“Don’t worry though.  Like I said, I won’t tell him that Storm was hitting on you...only that you were approached because Storm is looking for a tutor and you agreed, because you have love for the hockey team.”

“You know if you told him anything more than that, he’d probably hop on the first flight out here, right?”

She laughed, “Bria. There is still a fifty-fifty shot that he does that regardless.  Your brother is really protective of you.”

“Yeah, I know...”

“So...is there anyone that I should be wary of in the house?” she asked, “I mean...my brother wasn’t the first member of the team that you dated, right?”

She paled, thinking of just who in the house would be bad to run across.

“PARTY!”

“HELL YEAH!”

“Hey-do you know where-“

“Tiff?” Roque asked, eyes going slightly wide, “what-what are you doing here, love?”

“You guys were having a party,” she laughed as she grabbed one of the red cups that he’d been filling and handing out, “I came to it.  Duh!  Have you seen Bobby?  I don’t know if he just forgot to text me, or-”

“I-we thought you weren’t coming!” he said quickly, eyes scanning the crowd to possibly spot his brother on the ice before she did, “I thought you had a tutoring session?  You always tutor people on Wednesdays!”

“Well yeah, but it ended early,” she smiled, taking a sip, “I wanted to come spend some time with Bobby.”

“I -he might have left,” he said quickly, covering his tracks, “you know, I know that we were running low on some stuff, and Bobby offered to make a run.”

“That doesn’t sound like Bobby,” she giggled, eyeing the hockey player, “you sure you’re sober, Roque?”

“Too sober!” he frowned, “you should head home.  Let me tell him that you stop-“

“Oh no, it’s fine!” she laughed, cutting the man off with the wave of her hand, “I’ll just go hang out in his room...let him know that I’m there when he gets back?”

“Tiff, I-“

But his words were lost in a sea of music and people as Tiffany started towards her boyfriend’s bedroom.  She could hear some commotion behind herself as she started up the stairs, but it wasn’t until she reached his room and turned the handle that she felt an arm attempting to pull her back.

But it was too late. 

The cup spilled out of her hand and booze seeped into the hardwood as she saw her boyfriend with another woman on his bed. 

Ghost. 

Tears spilled messily down her cheeks as she was pulled away; the image of the blonde riding her boyfriend seared into her brain.

“They’re all man-whores in my opinion, Bria,” she frowned as she stapled a packet a little harder than necessary, “not one you should keep an eye out for any more than the other...because no matter what, when they’re in that house, anything is fair game.”

“Tiff...”

“They’re all just a bunch of needy little fuckboys looking for a puck bunny to touch their sticks, Bria...do yourself a favor and don’t get sucked into it,” she frowned, “don’t let him ever take you to his room, and don’t go to any of the parties.  Meet him only at the library.”

“Tiff...do-do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked at her friend, “I mean...I know we haven’t talked about much before you dated my brother, but-“

“Just do what I’m telling you, Bri...” she told her friend, “and trust me.”

Chapter 5

[percontaion-points]

TBWSIMBW chapter 18

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 18

“Wow, we really have some sluts at this school!” I whispered to Liam.

She says to the biggest manwhore there, after she herself slept with him after only a week of being in a romantic relationship. 

Look, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a lot of sex. Even with a bunch of people. But my problem is coming from Amber’s immense double standards here. 

“You can sit with me if you want to,” Kate offered, licking her lips slowly as she looked [Johnny] over. 

I’d rather sit on Mars without a spacesuit, thanks. 

“I still think you cheated, but people say that it’s only fair that you get the money, so there it is, Emo bitch,” she growled angrily. 

Holy crap! Did she just give me over four thousand dollars? I actually won the money? 

Kate stepped closer to me. “Jessica, you better back the hell off before I make you,” she spat angrily. 

I smiled happily. “It’s OK, Kate, there’s no problem. Thanks for this, Jessica,” I said, waving the envelope proudly. 

“Make sure you don’t lose it,” she stated with a smirk on her face. 

I had no doubt in my mind that she had some sort of plan that probably involved me dropping this money down a drain or setting fire to it somehow. Suddenly, I had a great idea that would seriously piss her off. I grinned happily as I turned to Liam. I stepped up close to him as I shoved the money down the front of his jeans, pushing my whole hand down there too. Liam grunted and looked at me, shocked. 

I ain’t even angry, that’s a good move. 

Lucky for me, my teacher was late too otherwise my tardiness would have earned me a detention.

Luckily for me, the only thing the author hates more than sexual abstinence is responsible adults. 

The next month passed really quickly.

What’s this, an actual fucking timeskip?! I’m kind of shocked the author would do something like this. 

Our relationship with Johnny had changed a lot too. He was actually a really close friend of mine now; he was such a nice guy and seemed to be growing in confidence every day.

I’m still kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop with Johnny. 

“Amber,” he said quietly. He smiled and I felt bile rise in my throat.

Chapter 18 summary: The next day at school, Jessica actually gives Amber the money that she won from the bet. However, she makes it seem like she’s going to get Amber to do something with the money, so in response, Amber shoves the big envelope down Liam’s pants. Liam laughs over the entire thing, but promises to look after it for her. They talk about what they want to do with it, but can’t really reach an agreement. 

Some time passes, and Amber becomes closer with her half-brother. One weekend, she agrees to go to one of his skateboarding competitions, although she’s really anxious about the thought that he might get hurt. She can’t even watch as he does his run/routine/whatever it’s called, and then is upset that she couldn’t watch. He ends up winning third place.

After, she suggests that they should get dinner together, and he invites her to his house. Amber is obviously upset over the thought of it, but only agrees when he promises that his mum and step-dad took the baby on a weekend get-away. So they go over to the new house. Amber is kind of sickened with how much that they have in comparison to how she and her own family are getting by. 

Then, because of course you knew it was coming… Here’s daddy!!

[127tyong]

Baby Don't Like It

Previous Part: Heartbreaker

Pairing: Yuta X Taeyong X Reader X Johnny

Genre: Smut, Revenge AU, y'all are gonna hate this ending, Angst

Warnings: Breakup Sex, Yuta focus, Revenge Sex, Loss of Virginity (Taeyong)

Word Count: 4k

“I wanted to do it with you because I know you’re more experienced than me…”

You sighed, hugging him again. “I’ll think about it… I don’t want to take your virginity like this.”

"Please!" Taeyong looked at you with glassy eyes.

“Taeyong…” You stroked his hair. “I’d… feel guilty.”

Taeyong cupped your cheek, his thumb against your swollen lips. “Well… I’ll just tell my fans we’re dating, if that’s okay… Maybe we can break up in a month?”

You nodded. “Sure…” 

Taeyong pulled away from your hug. "Well… I'll be going home now."

"Taeyong?" He stopped.

"Hm?"

"Are you… sure about this?" You rubbed your arm.

"Why would I not be?" He left your house.

~

The next morning, you looked at yourself in the mirror, looking at your plump, swollen lips and feeling your core, still needy from the change of your usual routine with Yuta.

You DMed Johnny, figuring he was your safest option.

[you] when can i see you again?

[johnnyjsuh] aren't you dating ty? lol

[you] i promise i can explain everything

[johnnyjsuh] fine, my house is the one the party was at

[johnnyjsuh] i’ll leave the door unlocked, come in

~

“There she is, the girl that went viral!” Johnny yelled at you from the kitchen, wearing shorts and no shirt.

“Ugh, stop…” You groaned, slamming the door shut, your head still aching 

Johnny turned off the sink, his abs wet from the splashing water. “Hey, you puked in my bushes, I get to shit on you a bit.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting at the dining table. “Whatever.”

“Anyways, what do you want? Last I checked, we aren’t close enough to randomly show up at each other’s houses.” Johnny sat next to you.

“You said you wanted to meet up with me again…” You fidgeted with your hair.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Is this what this is about? You know I told you that I don’t do hookups anymore, right?” He leaned back in his seat, licking his lips in frustration.

“You said you’d help me forget…” You mumbled, hanging your head down, looking at the wood texture on the table.

“...Whatever.” He ran his hands through his hair. “What’s going on with Taeyong?” Johnny quickly changed the subject.

“It’s easier to say we’re dating then to force him to explain that he’s actually a manwhore to his audience.” You nodded. 

“Isn’t he a virgin?” Johnny clicked his tongue. “Did you fuck my other best friend?”

“No! I just… sucked his dick until he almost passed out?” Once you heard yourself you began to regret ever saying anything.

Johnny buried his face into his hands. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m sorry…” You bit your lip regretting ever saying anything..

Johnny groaned. “It’s fine, I guess.”

"Listen, I, um… Oh, god, nevermind! This was a bad idea." You stood up. "I'll leave now."

Johnny grabbed your wrist. "Tell me."

"I haven't had sex in so long! For Yuta and I, it was a nearly daily thing! I need dick!" You yelled out, your mouth speaking before you could think.

Johnny let go of your wrist. "Oh…" He looked up at you with a disappointed look in his eyes.

"It was a stupid idea, I-" You went to leave.

Johnny quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, kissing you. One of your knees was in between his thighs, your arms falling around his neck to stabilize yourself.

"Do you not want to hear my answer?" The arm around your waist trailed down to your hips, then your legs, his large, rough hands finally sinking into the fat on the back of your thighs.

"Johnny…" You sighed, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"You're so goddamn pathetic. Soaking through your panties and onto my leg?" Johnny moved his hand from your thigh and up your skirt, grabbing ahold of your panties and pulling them up then down, the friction on your clit making you whine.

When you didn’t give him an answer, Johnny sighed, pushing you off him. “You’re not worth my time.” 

“Johnny, please!” You grabbed his bicep, feeling his muscles in both hands. “You’re the only person I can ask for help…” You whined, pouting as hard as you could.

“When will you learn?” Johnny looked at you with fake sympathy, mocking you. “Are you that addicted to dick? Maybe it’s time for you to buy a dildo.” He pushed you away, turning away from you, breaking eye contact.

You grinded your hips against his lap, trying to get him hard. “Please… I’m already here…”

“What makes me think I want to fuck you?” Johnny smirked then scoffed. “Nothing about you is even special.” 

“You don’t mean that, do you?” You got off him, grabbing your phone, ready to leave.

Johnny laughed, running his hands through his hair. “I bet you were a total slut with Yuta, why don’t you do that with me? Or give me a blowjob like you did to Taeyong… Come on.”

You touched your swollen lips. “Um…”

“Lips too sore to suck dick but begging to be fucked?” Johnny stood up. “Yuta must’ve babied you.”

Johnny pulled you into his room. “Sorry, but I’m not Yuta.” He slammed you onto your knees, your knees bruising off the wooden floors. He slid his shorts down, practically shoving his cock down your throat.

Yuta never treated you like this. You began to think while Johnny's dick met the back of your throat.

At least Yuta saw you as more than an object…

However, you really didn't have much time to think since Johnny was face fucking you, his cock bigger than Taeyong's and certainly more aggressive than the boy was. Constantly pulling your hair, aggressively thrusting, crushing your nose against his skin…

"Such a good girl." Johnny moaned. "You look so pretty when you have mascara running down your face."

You wished you were drunk this time. If you were drunk, at least you could blame how good it felt on the alcohol, or you could at least stop comparing Johnny to Taeyong, or Johnny to Yuta…

Johnny eventually pulled out, his cum squirting onto your face and into your hair.

Johnny really loved turning you into a mess…

Johnny sighed, his shoulders slumping as he let go of your head.

You coughed, finally being able to breathe properly.

“You ready?” Johnny pulled your arm, hoisting you up.

“For what?” You rubbed your lips.

“For what you came here for.” Johnny laughed, laying on his bed. “Ride me. I wanna watch those titties bounce while you get off on me.”

“Let me… wash my face first.” The warm cum was running down your cheeks.

“You look so pretty painted with my cum, baby.” Johnny grabbed your wrist, pulling you onto his lap. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll feel good.”

You straddled Johnny's cock, lining him up to your folds.

"Yuta did everything for you, didn't he?" Johnny sighed, slamming your hips down onto his dick, lifting you up and then lowering you with ease, as if your weight was nothing to him.

"I…" You breathed out, panting. "I can do it…"

It almost made Johnny sick, the way your tongue curled, the way you moaned his name, the way your eyes never looked at him, rather, beyond him. He could grip your waist and squeeze your tits, but they didn't feel like his.

You were still Yuta's.

The truth was, despite how everyone thought of him, he really wanted to find love. But hearing you say you miss that bastard, Yuta… it made him sick.

Johnny quickly snapped out of his thoughts, focusing back on how your tits bounced when you rode him, your nasty moans, so fucking high pitched, unable to hold yourself back…

"Good girl." Johnny cooed, figuring Yuta probably hardly ever praised you. “My perfect little whore.”

He watched as you got yourself off on his cock, your eyes rolled back and your back perfectly arched. It didn't make sense to Johnny. You looked perfect on his cock, not Taeyong's or Yuta's. You looked perfect covered in his cum, and no one else's. He figured that one day, you might actually love him. That you could be a good housewife that would greet him with a kiss when he got home from work. But he knew that would never happen.

Not in this universe, at least.

Your little moans got louder, then screamed out to Johnny about how you were close.

"Me too, princess. I'm gonna-" Johnny shot out his cum inside you since you didn't pull out quickly enough.

"Fuck!" You hissed. "Why would you cum inside me?"

Johnny quickly realized that you would never be his, no matter how perfect you were.

"Bathroom's across the hall." Johnny mumbled, getting dressed. "Lock the door when you leave, I'm going out."

~

“Are you home?” Taeyong rang your doorbell.

You were sitting on your couch, chewing on your thumb nail, your core sore from Johnny hitting your womb, despite the fact about a week had passed. “There's a key under the doormat.” You yelled.

He let himself in. “Hey.” He sat next to you, wrapping his arm around you. “Are you busy?” 

You shook your head. “Did I look busy?” You scoffed.

Taeyong grimaced. “Yeah… Well, uh…”

“What do you want, Taeyong?” Your head fell onto his shoulder, flipping through Netflix.

“I’m sorry…” He sighed.

“What is it?” You rolled your eyes, tired with him.

“I may or may not have told Yuta that you’d be willing to talk to him.” Taeyong braced himself, expecting the worst.

You sat up straight. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry! I said we were dating!” Taeyong got off your couch and hid behind it. “I agreed to dinner with him tonight!”

“Tonight?” You stood up, scratching your head. “Taeyong, what the fuck?”

“Just dinner! I swear to God! Just dinner!” Taeyong stayed crouched.

“Taeyong!” You yelled, wanting an answer.

“I wanted to go to that 5-star restaurant!” Taeyong stood up from behind the couch.

“You sold me out for steak?” You threw a pillow at him.

Taeyong caught the pillow and tossed it back onto the couch. “Listen, I’ll do all the talking, it’ll be fine! Plus, do you really think Yuta will believe you until he sees it himself?”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but the moment I feel uncomfortable, I’m leaving.”

Taeyong sighed. “And I’m choosing what you’re wearing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.” 

Taeyong went into your bedroom and looked into your closet. “Here.” He pulled out a dress you haven’t worn since before you started dating Yuta, since he said it made you look like a slut.

“Absolutely not.” You looked at the short dress. “I haven’t worn that thing in forever. It’s probably too small at this point.”

“Which is why it’s perfect, come on, you’ll feel hot.” Taeyong scoffed. 

“I want you to know I hate you.” You grabbed the dress and put it on in front of Taeyong.

“Ack…” Taeyong turned around.

“Taeyong, I sucked your dick, we’re beyond being uncomfortable at seeing each other naked.” You sighed.

“We didn’t fuck though! Totally different!” Taeyong’s forehead made contact with the wall with a thump.

“You still wanna?” You scoffed. “Zip me up.”

Taeyong turned around and zipped your dress. “Maybe.”

You spun around. “Are you gonna wear that?” You looked at Taeyong’s oversized hoodie and jeans.

“Well… I made this promise to Yuta then immediately came here…” Taeyong scratched the back of his neck.

You groaned. “Go home and get changed. I need to put makeup on or something anyways.”

“Wait. Make a promise to me.” Taeyong stood in the doorway.

“What?”

“If this night works out well, you’ll take my virginity.”

~

You told Taeyong you’d think about it, but you really meant no.

Either way, you were standing next to Taeyong, who was now wearing a suit, waiting for Yuta outside the restaurant. 

“I’ll do all the talking, I promise.” Taeyong reminded you for the 100th time.

“Got it.” You sighed, clutching onto Taeyong’s arm.

Soon after, Yuta approached you two. “Hey.”

You took a deep breath. “Hi, Yuta.”

Taeyong wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your side next to his. “Yeah, hi Yuta.”

Yuta gave you both the fakest smile you’ve ever seen from him. “Shall we get seated?”

You were seated and given a menu. “Oh, by the way, how did you get reservations so quickly?”

Yuta clenched his jaw. “Well, I’ve always been able to get us reservations through all of our relationship.”

“Oh…” You sipped your water.

Taeyong squeezed your thigh, reminding you to stop talking. “So, Yuta, how’s life been?”

“Fine. Just fine.” Yuta squeezed onto his cutlery, his knuckles turning a disturbing shade of white.

You could practically see the sweat dripping down Yuta’s face, his discomfort both enthralling you, but also upsetting you.

Taeyong’s fingers tapped against your thighs again. “So, how’s the single life?”

“If your intention on bringing me out here tonight was to make a mockery of me, you’re sorely mistaken.” Yuta smiled at Taeyong. “I’m doing… just fine.”

You could feel Taeyong’s nails practically digging through your flesh. “Oh yeah? Say, how good was the pussy to make you cheat?

“Taeyong!” You hissed.

Yuta sighed. "I just… wanted to see how you two were doing. This was a bad idea, I should just leave."

"We'll enjoy our date without you." Taeyong flashed a smile at Yuta.

Yuta grabbed your hand from across the table. "I promise, I didn't mean to, I-" 

Taeyong stood up, pushing Yuta back. "You were leaving?"

Yuta looked at the ground. "Yeah. Good night."

"Well, at least that's over." Taeyong scoffed, then gave you a smile. “Eat.”

~

"Can you even call that a success?" You laughed as Taeyong unzipped your dress in the backseat of his car, positioned on his lap, in between his legs, his pants already unzipped.

He shrugged. "Hey, at least I stood up for you!" His lips dove onto your neck, quickly giving you a hickey, his teeth digging into your delicate skin. “Yuta can’t exactly say he’s done anything like that for you.”

You slid your panties off. "Yeah, thank you…"

"You're dating me now, well, at least publicly… So there's no reason to worry. " Taeyong unhooked your bra, sliding a hand under the padding and onto your breasts, toying with your nipples, the other sliding between your thighs, his middle finger finding your clit with ease, drawing circles until you were sure there was a puddle on the expensive leather seats.

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" You felt the finger slide into your cunt, your walls squeezing around his finger.

“Even I at least know this much from porn…” Taeyong laughed, his breath warming up your neck. “What? Did Yuta not know where your clit was?”

"Well, the stereotype is that boys don't know where the clit is…" You felt Taeyong's fingers pump in and out of you, making squelching sounds.

"Well, you know… the clit actually gets bigger when you get horny… So maybe that explains why it was so easy for me to find it." 

Your hand wrapped around Taeyong's wrist, trying to get him to slow down in between moans, your head falling back onto his shoulder. "You're going too hard, Taeyong…"

"I'm sorry…" He whispered. "To be honest, I wanna at least make you cum on my fingers before I put it in…"

"Why?"

"I came so quickly by your tongue, I'm worried I'll cum immediately when I put it in you…" Taeyong pulled his hand out and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. You could feel the warmth of his face on your neck, figuring he was so embarrassed that he blushed that hard.

"Taeyong…" You cooed. "It's okay…" You spun around, straddling his waist. "I'll make you feel good."

"Wait, I-"

You ignored Taeyong, sliding it in slowly.

"Fuck!" Taeyong's head fell into your chest, in between your breasts, his warm cum filling you up and into your womb.

"I didn't even put it all the way in." You hummed, cradling his head in the palm of your hand, taking in the look of Taeyong's flushed cheeks and watering eyes. 

"It's too much." Taeyong whined. "It's too good. You're too good." Taeyong's lips were pouty, perfectly red and full.

You traced Taeyong's lips with your thumb then sliding the rest of his length inside you. "You're still so hard." You moaned out, feeling his tip kiss your cervix, his cum leaking out of your womb and back onto his cock as you rode him.

“Too good.” Taeyong whined as you bounced on him. “Too good, so good…” 

“Gonna make me cum.” Your head found a spot on his shoulder, gnawing down. “Dick’s so big.” 

“Bigger than Yuta’s?” Taeyong croaked out, his head falling back onto the foggy window.

Your hands pressed down onto his abdomen, finding a place to balance down onto. “So much bigger.” A lie.

“Fuck, I already wanna cum again. Please, just like that…” Taeyong whined, his hands covering his mouth, holding back his whiny moans.

“Cum. Cum inside me again.” You instructed, his whines edging you on.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” His eyes rolled back, his hands finding a place on your hips to dig into, his lips pouting again.

“Taeyong!” You hips rocked back and forth, milking every last drop of his cum into your womb. “So full…” You groaned. 

Taeyong’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling your body on top of his, your arms naturally falling around his waist.

“You’re so warm.” He kissed your cheek. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Me too.” Your head fell onto his shoulder. “Me too, Taeyong.”

“It’s a shame I don’t love you, you would’ve been a nice girlfriend.” Taeyong’s fingers drummed on your back.

“Huh?” You pulled away from the hug.

“What, you didn’t know?” Taeyong laughed. “You’re not my type, like, at all.”

“Oh, fuck you Taeyong!” You grabbed your dress, sliding it back on, only able to zip it half way up your back. “I let you cum inside me and that’s all you have to say?” 

Taeyong shrugged, zipping his pants back up. “If it makes you feel better, your pussy was amazing.”

You slammed the door open, exiting his car. “Fuck you, Lee Taeyong!”

Yuta was the first thing you saw when you left Taeyong, his familiar motorcycle still in the parking lot. “Oh, I-”

You hugged Yuta, your head falling into his chest. “Take me home.” 

He spun you around and zipped up your dress. “Whatever you want.”

~

His jacket was wrapped around your waist since you left your panties in Taeyong’s car, your head on his back, arms around Yuta’s waist. The night time wind was always refreshing, it always gave you a sense of familiarity. That, combined with the scent of Yuta’s almost overwhelmingly strong cologne.

You really couldn’t wrap your head around it. Why would he cheat? Why would he do that to you? And then to make you almost feel bad for him? Almost. Only almost.

Yuta parked his bike in your driveway, which led you to immediately rip off his jacket and give it back to him, and run to your front door.

You would’ve been able to get in without talking to Yuta if it wasn’t for this damn lock!

“Give it to me.” Yuta grabbed your key and slid it in, unlocking it.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, entering your house.

“Listen, I wanted to talk, I-” Yuta followed you inside.

You cut Yuta off. “I don’t really want to hear it.”

“Babe, I-” Yuta grabbed your arm.

“I'm not your babe anymore. You just happened to be at the right place at the right time.” You scoffed.

Yuta sighed, letting go of you. “Johnny told me.”

“Told you what?” You spun around on your heel.

“That you missed me.” He wrapped his hands on your shoulders. “Don’t you miss me?”

“I told him I wasn’t used to not having sex with you anymore. Nothing else.” You pushed him away from you. “Go home, Yuta.”

“If you miss my dick… then at least have sex with me again.” Yuta’s thumb glossed over your lips, his digits entering your mouth.

“Yu…” You moaned out, still sore from Taeyong, but wanting Yuta more than ever.

“Shh, I know baby.” Yuta picked you up, your legs around his waist, taking you into your bedroom and laying you down.

“Fuck me… Fuck me, Yuta.” You whined as Yuta pulled off your dress. 

"Always so cute…" Yuta kissed your jaw, rubbing your clit.

"Hurry up…" You groaned, spreading your legs open.

"Patience, princess." He whispered in your ear, raising your legs, your ankles resting on his shoulders. "I'll give you everything you've ever wanted."

As he slid his cock inside you, you didn't know how to feel. You expected instant gratification, but that didn't come. 

"Come on princess, let me hear your pretty moans…" Yuta whined, his cock hitting you deeply. 

You realized what had happened… Johnny and Taeyong broke you.

"Harder." You cried out. "More. Fuck me harder!"

Yuta grabbed you by your throat, his thumb pressing into the side of your neck. His pace quickened, causing you to roll your eyes back in ecstasy. 

"Yu… Yuta!" You screamed out, grabbing onto his arm.

“Pathetic whore wants to be fucked hard but can’t even handle it.” Yuta groaned, his eyes focused on yours, causing you to turn your head, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

You wish you could tell Yuta to stop, to get off you, that this was all a mistake and you don’t want him to fuck you. But you knew you couldn’t. It felt too good… You were ruined, pathetic and begging a man you didn’t love to fuck you. 

Yuta didn’t change… it was you. 

Yuta knew everything you liked. How to kiss you, how fast or slow to fuck you… how to love you.

You just got used to Johnny and Taeyong…

Yuta snapped you out of your thoughts by slapping you. 

“Ow!” You hissed, not expecting the pain.

Yuta wrapped his hand on the top of your head, his fist full of your hair. “Can’t even fucking pay attention to me anymore? God, I’m going to train you all over again…” His pace quickened, as you became even more of a mess around his cock, feeling how wet you were around him. 

“Good whore, taking everything I give you…” He started sucking on your nipple, his tongue piercing flicking against your skin. 

He was messy. Messier than Johnny, less whiny than Taeyong.

“I wanna… hear you moan, Yuta…” You cried out.

Yuta pulled away from your breast, then flipped you onto your stomach. “So fucking stupid…” He mumbled, shoving your face into the pillow. “I like you better when you don’t speak.”

You started crying into your pillow as it muffled your tears.

“Gonna cum inside you. Gonna plant a baby inside you so you won’t ever leave me again.” You felt Yuta’s grip on your thighs tighten as he came inside you, filling you up just as you promised.

You still felt empty.

“All mine. You will always be all mine. Don’t go to Johnny or Taeyong ever again.” His hot breath panted in your ear, 

As Yuta let go of your head, you turned over, falling asleep on your side, Yuta right next to you. Cold, emotionless, and not knowing for sure what love is.

~

When you looked at your phone the next morning, you saw that Taeyong announced your breakup with him.

You knew you couldn’t text Johnny after that, thinking to yourself that wouldn’t be fair to you or him.

Yuta’s arm was around your waist, his fingers dangling on your waist. When he woke up, he dragged his arm away, yawning.

"Why'd you cheat on me, Yuta?" Was all you managed to get out of you, having a million questions but choosing that one to ask him. Your face was covered in tears, crying after you came to the understanding that you couldn't live without him, and he needed you just as badly.

Yuta pressed his forehead against your back, his arm falling back around your waist. "I… I don't have a reason. I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure." He cried out, his tears falling onto your back.

"Yuta…" You sighed, sitting up, leaving Yuta alone.

"I'm sorry… I promise, I'll be good to you this time!" Yuta reached out to you.

And you stand up. "I need to wash my face. You know where the guest bathroom is."

You curl over your sink, sobbing to yourself. Everything hurts, your body aches from constant abuse. You hear the front door open, then close again. 

And you're all alone again.

[julessworldd]

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots​ @roger-taylors-car​ @reigns420​ @awildkaitlynhasappeared​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @izzysguitar​ since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year. 

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date.  Felt like it was yesterday.. 

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute.. 

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms.  "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed.  Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was. 

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros.  I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero. 

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me.  I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings. 

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk.  It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too. 

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything.  "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back.  "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around. 

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat. 

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers. 

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late." 

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room. 

 "Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled. 

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled.  Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused. 

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around.  "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil.  "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist. 

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me”  I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again. 

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection. 

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe.  I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek.